


Secrets, Lies, Revenge, and Regret

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Brotherly Love, Camelot, Character Death, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Forced Abortion, Gen, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, King Robb, Magic, Minor Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Obsession, Only Robb and Sansa and Bran, Prince Bran, Princess Sansa, Queen Morgana - Freeform, R plus L equals J, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge & Regret, Secrets & Lies, Stillbirth, Winterfell, Wrongful Death, Wrongful Imprisonment, based on fanvideo, king in the north
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-04 21:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 73
Words: 73,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1793359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a GoT/Merlin crossover video on youtube by MissDayDreamer101</p>
<p>When Ned Stark is arrested for treason, Morgana, Merlin, and the knights must do whatever it takes to protect his son Bran and his daughter Sansa, who also happens to be Arthur's betrothed. Together they must uncover the truth behind the deadly web of lies, even if it means Morgana must travel North to ally with the Starks. No one is safe, especially not Sansa. No one will get through unscathed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off an amazing video on youtube called Secrets & Lies edited by MissDayDreamer101. I ask everyone to go watch it, there are two.

**Prologue - Arthur**

“We cannot keep doing this,” Arthur murmurs into his stepmother’s hair. He knows what they’re doing is wrong, she is his father’s wife for goodness’s sake. Still, he finds her addicting, from her golden locks to her silk skin.

“And who is there to stop us?” Cersei asks him with a condescending raise of her eyebrow that makes him feel more like a child then a man grown.

“My father,” he replies truthfully, despite her scuff, “he would have your head for it.”

“Oh?” she questions, raising an eyebrow at his statement, “And he would leave you free of charge?”

“I did not say that Cersei,” he tells her in frustration, forcing himself to detangle himself from her body. He dresses before he continues, keeping his back towards her in a desperate hope that not looking at her will make it easy for him to leave. “I don’t know what he’d do with me, but he cannot kill me as I am his only child.”

“Your father is a fool. You think he wouldn’t fuck as many whores as he could until one of them birthed him another son?” she asks him mockingly. “Isn’t that what he did to get you?”

Arthur’s shoulders tense at her cruel words. Ygraine, his mother, was a kitchen wench before his father got her with child. Uther had been so delighted at the thought of finally having an heir, he set aside his marriage with the Queen Morgause and married her in order to legitimize his son. The match had been screamed upon by lords of all houses and the small council, but Uther had stuck by his son and wife until Queen Ygraine’s untimely death when Arthur was a small boy.

“You were a kitchen whore’s son and he decided to name her Queen because he cannot get a son on anyone else.” He hears a rustle of sheets behind him before sun kissed arms twine across his chest. He moans loudly as she begins to kiss her way down his shoulder.

“You’re a wicked woman,” he moans as he shifts around to kiss her hard.

  
Neither notice the wide eyes of the boy outside the window.


	2. Morgana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana goes to get Lord Stark when Bran asks for him and Sansa plays in the garden with Morgana and Sirs Gwaine, Leon, and Percival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm being really sweet to Sansa because I'm going to be very horrible to her later.

**Chapter 1 - Morgana ([This is the first of the two videos for which this story is HEAVILY based.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgnLbh36WyI))**

Morgana smiles encouragingly as little Sansa holds up her stitching for the King’s beloved ward’s approval. To Morgana, it doesn’t matter that Sansa is a woman grown in the eyes of the law, she is still a little girl. Ever since Uther called for Eddard Stark to come to be the highest guard of Camelot, she had cared for the then toddler. Morgana had been ten years old and had instantly fallen in love with the red haired beauty and the small baby boy. While Cersei (whom carried the official responsibility of looking after the children of the guards) had rebuffed little Sansa’s sweet words and pretty smiles, Morgana had been charmed by them. She made it her job to be Stark children’s mother as their real mother was North at Winterfell with the eldest of the two Stark sons.

“You’ve done well sweet girl,” Morgana praises. She is rewarded with one of Sansa’s pretty smiles, and it makes Morgana’s heart swell with pride and love. Her foster brother is a lucky man to be betrothed to such a lovely girl. She thinks if anyone can love the pettiness out of Arthur, it is Sansa.

“Morgana!” the voice of Bran calls as the small brunette runs into the room.

“What is it Bran?” she asks, alarmed by the look of panic on the boy’s face.

“Where is father?”

Morgana rises from her seat beside Sansa and walks towards him, dropping to her knees before him. “Bran, what has happened?”

“I must speak with father, only father,” he tells her stubbornly.

“Alright,” Morgana relents, sensing the urgency behind his dark eyes, “I’ll fetch him and you stay here with your sister.”

Bran nods to her and goes to Sansa who extends her arms to comfort her brother. Morgana quickly exits the room, stopping only to speak quickly to the guard.

“Do not let anyone passed you, do you understand? No one is to come near the Stark children until I have returned.”

The guard nods to her and she continues her path. She doesn’t stop to address the servants that greet her. She only pauses when she is outside the chamber of the council.

“Lady Morgana,” the two guards greet.

“I need to enter,” she tells them.

“The King has asked that…”

“Announce me,” she cuts off, in no mood to hear their rehearsed denials. Sir Elyan nods as he quickly enters the room to announce her.

When the doors are opened, she is met with a silent room. Uther is looking at her expectantly. Cersei is glaring at her. Arthur looks upon her with neutral eyes. Lord Stark is the only one that appears at ease with her presence. She doesn’t pay any attention to the others.

“My apologies for the intrusion,” she says to Uther before turning her attention to Lord Stark. “Lord Stark, your son has grown ill with fever and asks adamantly for you. If you could possibly see him for a moment, I believe he will allow his body rest.”

“Go Eddard, we’re nearly done here,” Uther intervenes before Lord Stark can say anything.

“If it please you, Your Grace,” Lord Stark says as he rises from the table to follow the King’s ward.

Once they are far enough away from the council chamber, Lord Stark turns to face Morgana expectantly. She smiles at his insight; he is the only one who has ever known when she is lying.

“Your son says he needs to speak with you urgently. I have never seen him so panicked,” she tells him.

Eddard nods as they both know that neither Sansa or Bran would insist on seeing him unless it was urgent. They tear down the halls of the castle as fast as they can without drawing too much attention. Morgana nods her head to the Stark guard before entering the room to find Bran curled up in his sister’s side, her arms wrapped protectively around him.

“Bran,” Eddard breaths as he goes to his son’s side. He takes his son into his arms before turning to Morgana. “Lady Morgana, will you take Sansa for a walk about the gardens?”

“Of course,” Morgana replies as she reaches her hand out to the red haired beauty.

Sansa quickly takes the brunette’s hand, following her out. Satisfied that Bran is in safe hands with his father, Morgana turns to the only Stark daughter and is once again struck by just how young Sansa is despite her flowering. The way she clasps Morgana’s hand and almost skips at her side make the King’s ward frown at the thought that Sansa is to be married in less than a year’s time.

They walk through the gardens in near silence, allowing the fresh air to clear their heads. They stop every few paces so that Sansa may inspect the roses and lillies. On one such stop, Sansa turns to face her father’s bannerman, Lord Beric, and engage him in playful conversation. He, like so many of Lord Stark’s household guard, is most fond of their little Stark princess (as she was affectionately known by the Stark guards). With a smile that would make most women fall into a fit of giggles, he leans over and plucks a lily from the garden and tucks it affectionately into her hair.

“My Queen of Love and Beauty,” he says, eliciting a sweet laugh from Sansa.

“Charming the little princess are we Beric?” Sir Gwaine chimes from up the walk.

All three sets of eyes turn to face the playful knight of Camelot. Sirs Percival and Leon are with him, having apparently returned early from an assignment on Camelot’s border. Sansa squeals in delight, jumping up from her crouch and flying into Leon’s strong arms.

“I have missed you little Queen (the nickname Camelot’s knights had given her as she is their future Queen),” Sir Leon says with a laugh as he swings her up into the air with ease. He kisses both of her cheeks before passing her over to Sir Percival, her feet never touching the ground. The taller knight says nothing, always the quiet one, instead he simply spins her around, listening to her child’s laughter ringing through the trees.

Morgana smiles at their familiarity with the future Queen. When she was a small girl, such familiarity with a noblewoman would have been punishable by death, but Arthur was quick to change such boundaries. He had encouraged affection for both Morgana and his stepmother, claiming if knights and guards learned to truly love the woman of the castle then they would fight that much harder to protect them. Uther was quick to embrace the idea and now the knights give their love constantly (with the exception of the bitter Queen).

 **  
**Sansa Stark is a very lucky girl indeed, Morgana thinks. If only the King’s Ward knew what is to come.


	3. Eddard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Stark tells the Queen what his son saw and offers her a deal.

**Chapter 2 - Eddard**

Ned Stark can’t believe his ears when his youngest son tells him what he saw. The Prince and the Queen? An affair? Had the information come from any other, he would have accused him of lying, but Bran hated liars with a passion and rarely fibbed about even the simplest of things.

“You must not tell anyone else what you saw Bran, do you understand me?” Eddard tells his son sternly, knowing what danger such information poses. “Not even Morgana or Sansa.”

“Yes father,” Bran replies with a nod.

“I’ll take care of this,” he assures his son, kissing the top of the boy’s head. “Now run off to Morgana and stay with the guards. Whatever you do, do not allow yourself or your sister to leave the presence of one of our guards.”

“Yes father,” Bran replies with a serious face as he gets up and runs from the room.

With a sigh, Lord Eddard Stark of House Stark of the North rises from his seat and goes in search of the Queen.

He finds her in the Queen’s garden, the one Uther had built for Queen Ygraine when he learned of her pregnancy.

“Lord Stark,” Cersei greets coldly. She has never particularly liked him he knows, not since he agreed to come and act as Uther’s highest guard under the condition that Sansa be betrothed to Arthur. The prince had been the only child Cersei ever doted on. When she decided to take him to her bed, Ned doesn’t know.

“My Queen,” he greets in return.

“What is it you want Lord Stark? My time is precious,” she snaps irritably.

“I come to tell you that tomorrow I am going to the King and telling him that you’ve been unfaithful. As a courtesy to you, I am telling you so you have time to leave. Claim your father is sick and leave tonight to be with him. Uther will not go after you once he learns the truth, I promise you that, but if you are still here tomorrow he will cut off your head.”

“I see,” she says, an amused smile on her face, “And who may I ask is this man I have been unfaithful with?”

“My son saw you with him, your lover,” Ned tells her, “I know the truth.”

“Do you Lord Stark?” she asks, her smile still amused. Her green Lannister eyes flicker over the stone rail of the Queen’s garden, into the garden far below where his daughter and son play. Sansa is being swept in circles on the rosestone path by one of Camelot’s knights and Bran stands with Lord Beric watching them.

“If you do anything to my family, I will not give you the mercy of allowing you to keep your head.”

“You play a dangerous game Lord Stark,” she tells him, giving him her Queenly smile before walking passed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll quickly find that Sansa is my favorite character so chapters with her will tend to be shorter.


	4. Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei tells Arthur and they come up with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sansa's heartbreak starts in the next chapter and I'm sad, I hate hurting Sansa.

Chapter 3 - Cersei

“He knows!” Cersei nearly shrieks when Arthur comes to visit her that day.

“What?” her stepson asks in confusion. It’s been a long day for him she knows, as he spent most of the day teaching the younger knights to fight.

“Stark, he knows about us. The boy saw us,” she tells him desperately. She cannot lose him, not after everything she’s been through. When her father all but sold her to King Uther, Arthur had been her only source of happiness. While the King grew angry with her at her mere presence, for he still loved Ygraine, Arthur grew to love her. He was a boy of thirteen when she married, and would often come to her after his father struck her or screamed evil at her and ask her to accompany him on a ride through the forest trails or if she would like to sup with him in the gardens. He has been her most loving companion through her marriage to his father, defending her when he thought necessary, and loving her always. She cannot lose him.

“How could he have seen?” he asks in surprise.

“I do not know, but he means to tell the King tomorrow. We must do something to stop him!”

“Yes, do not worry, we will, but we must be careful. You know as well as I that Uther trusts Lord Stark,” he warns her.

“We must kill him, tonight while he sleeps. It is the only way.”

“No,” he argues, far too level headed for the situation. She wonders if he understands what would happen should his father find out. She opens her mouth to speak but he cuts her off. “If he were to die then we’d have to find a way to cover our tracks and the boy would still know. We must discredit them all. I will say that I saw him speaking with a sorcerer, that I overheard them plot to overthrow the King once Sansa and I marry. Father will believe me and no one would believe his story then.”

“Go,” she tells him, “go and tell him now.”

Arthur nods to her, kissing her gently before disappearing out the door.

Cersei takes a moment to collect herself, before leaving the chamber to go sit in the gardens where the Stark children most likely reside with her foster daughter.

“Your Grace,” Sansa greets her, her voice stiffer than usual, making Cersei wonder if she knows.

“Sansa,” she replies, carefully regarding the girl coldly. She doesn’t understand why Uther thought marrying Arthur to such a horrid little girl was a good idea. She is a pretty girl, there is no denying that, but she is simple in the head and stupid when it comes to the world around her. She’ll never make Arthur happy.

“Cersei, what brings you to the gardens?” Morgana asks her from her seat on the stone bench, her arm resting on the back of the Stark boy sitting next to her.

“I am the Queen, Sansa is my responsibility,” she replies with ease, not missing the look of suspicion both Morgana, the knights, and Stark guard share. Her contempt for the Stark girl is no secret, but it is the cleverest lie she can think of at the moment and as their Queen they will not question her.

**  
**“Welcome Your Grace,” Sansa says, breaking the uneasy silence. The girl opens her mouth to say more when the bells begin to ring that call the court of Camelot. Everyone freezes, as the only reason the bells are ever rung is to call for an execution. They all miss the smirk that spreads on the Queen’s face.


	5. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur considers Sansa for the first time when Ned is arrested.

Chapter 4 - Arthur

After his father gives him the order to have Lord Stark arrested, Arthur finds himself in the hallway of the Guard’s quarters. Lord Stark stands at the window, watching the people of Camelot go about their business on the busy streets. It makes Arthur feel the smallest pang of guilt at what he is about to do, but as quickly as it appears it goes away. The man turns to face him and with only a moment of regret, Arthur gives the order.

“Arrest him.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Lord Stark demands, but no one answers him as he is dragged away to the cells. With a sigh, Arthur makes his way back to the Throne Room to await the announcement of Lord Stark's betrayal and a trial day.

“Arthur!” a voice calls to him and he nearly stops frozen when he sees Sansa, along with her brother and three of her father’s men, Beric, Vayon, and Jory. In his rush to protect himself and Cersei, he hadn’t even considered his betrothed.

“Sansa,” he nearly gulps as she runs towards him, a worried look on her face.

“What’s happened? Why is the King calling court?” she asks him, her eyes wide and innocent.

“A plot against the King has been uncovered. Are you going to your chambers?” he asks, hoping she is. He hasn’t spent much time with his betrothed but he knows she is a lovely girl and well beloved by all of the castle. He fears what they would do if she asked them to save her father.

“For a moment, Lady Sansa would like to change for clothes befitting court,” Jory Cassel tells him suspiciously, placing his hand on Sansa’s shoulder protectively. He knows Jory’s never approved of him, believing him to be too arrogant and self centered to be a proper husband to their beloved little princess.

“I will see you soon Lady Sansa, Lord Bran,” Arthur dismisses quickly. He disappears around the corner before they can reply.

When he arrives at the Throne Room he sees both Cersei and Morgana standing with his father.

“Treason?” Morgana asks incredulously.

“Yes treason,” Uther confirms.

“Rubbish! He would never do such a thing,” Morgana argues angrily.

“He’s sworn to bring down the King,” he lies with ease, much easier than he’s comfortable with.

“This is madness! You condemn a man with no proof!” she replies hotly, not turning to look at him or acknowledging Arthur in any way.

“You can’t help him,” Cersei tells her.

Morgana turns her head to look at the Queen and something clicks in her head, Arthur can see it.

“Arthur saw it with his own eyes,” Uther continues, but Morgana is not listening. She’s staring at Arthur. Pieces are falling into place, he can practically hear it. She knows he is lying, she knows the Queen is cruel, she knows something’s missing. He shifts uncomfortably under her gaze.

Behind her the court begins to file in, waiting to hear what it is that’s happened. His betrothed stands off to the side with her brother, her new gown a robin blue. Her eyes are searching the crowd for her father and he feels sick inside. Quickly he turns away to take his place, and while the wheels continue to turn in Morgana's head, she and Cersei both go to their seats.

When the court is full and the whispers have died down enough. Uther rises from his throne and announces to the court that Eddard Stark has been arrested for treason. Before the words have even fully left his mouth, the court grows angry at the accusation, yelling that Eddard Stark is no traitor. Loudest of them all is Bran Stark, who was standing quietly beside his sister a moment ago and is now being restrained by Vayon. It makes Arthur’s stomach clench painfully and without thinking he turns to look at Sansa. She stands perfectly still, her mouth slightly open and her eyes penetrating him to his soul. They are wide and wet and accusing. She looks as if her heart has been broken and he hates himself for being the one to break it.

“Silence!” his father yells, and Arthur tears his eyes away from Sansa in order to look at him. “I open the floor for any who wish to speak with the King.” The court goes silent at his command. The invitation is a formality that anyone who is wise will not take.

“Your Grace,” a small voice says from the side. Arthur’s heart stops when he sees Sansa stepping forward, despite the hand on her arm. Merlin stands not far from her, his eyes narrowed slightly as he looks to Arthur in shock. Arthur in turn averts his eyes

“Lady Sansa,” the King says through stiff lips. Arthur hears Morgana’s sharp intake of breath from her seat at Uther’s left.

All the court watch as Sansa comes to the center floor, falling gently to her knees. Arthur can see the sadness and anger the court has for her. He holds his breath.

“I beg of you Your Grace, as the betrothed of your son, I beg mercy. _All_ I ask is mercy,” she says strongly, and it hurts him to see total trust in her eyes, as if she expects her pleas to be answered kindly, though it does not keep the desperation from her voice, _“Somebody must have lied!”_

“The one who brought me the knowledge of your father’s treason was your betrothed, do you call the prince a liar?” Uther accuses and Arthur wants to step forward and protect her, but he knows he cannot.

“No,” she denies quickly, “Perhaps he misunderstood, or someone has lied to him but I know these accusations are not true. My father loves you, he is loyal, I know he is.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this little dove,” Cersei interjects, rising from her throne, “but your father is a traitor. We know you had no knowledge of this of course. You are safe here I promise. You will still marry Arthur at year’s end.”

Arthur watches with pained eyes as his lover slowly goes towards his betrothed, one lie after another pouring from her mouth. His heart tears when he sees silent tears gathering in Sansa’s blue eyes before spilling silently down her pale cheeks. It is that moment she seems to realize that no one will help them, that her father will be sentenced to die. She’s flickering those eyes between himself, the Queen, and his father, begging them all to help her father, to save him.

Morgana rises from her seat at his father’s left and quickly goes to Sansa, shoving passed Cersei in the process. With the love of a mother she wraps her arms around Sansa and gently wipes her tears. Morgana whispers quietly to his red haired betrothed and leads her towards the Stark guards, stopping only to throw him a look of hate over her shoulder.

 **  
**He’ll be damned to hell he’s sure, for what he’s done this day.


	6. Morgana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana and the Stark Guard begin to prepare for war even if it has not been declared.

Chapter 5 - Morgana

She listens disheartenedly as Sansa sobs, curled in Morgana’s arms against the side of the bed. Sansa had barely made it into Morgana’s chamber at all before crumbling beneath the weight of her grief. The young girl had fallen to the side of Morgana’s bed, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks. It broke the hearts of all that had followed them inside. Beric had wanted to hold her and assure her that her father would be alright, but Morgana had beaten him to her, encasing the red haired beauty in her arms.

An hour has passed since then, and Bran is sitting with Vayon and Beric, his head resting against Beric’s shoulder. No one speaks, not for lack of want, but for lack of something to say. What do you say to children of a man who will soon be convicted of treason and sentenced to death? What do you say to the daughter of said man who’s been betrayed by the man she is to one day call husband?

Jory stands in the corner, ringing his hands as he exchanges a look with Morgana. He has a question in his eyes, the same one in all their eyes. They need to compose a plan. Lord Stark has two-hundred guardsmen with him in Camelot. While their liege Lord isn’t dead yet, he will undoubtedly be soon and then what? Jory will be the one to take charge and Morgana senses he is wondering if it is not smart to take Sansa and Bran back to Winterfell. Of course they both know taking Sansa away would be very difficult as she is still Arthur’s betrothed. Bran will be easier as the crown has no real use for him. Morgana’s thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door.

Each of the three Stark guard rise from their seats and press their palms to the hilts of their swords.

“Morgana,” Sansa whispers fearfully, tightening her hold on the King’s ward.

“Shh sweet girl,” Morgana shushes, gently stroking the beauty’s hair.

“You won’t let them take me away, right? Don’t let them take me,” she cries. Sansa may be naive but she is no where near as stupid as both Cersei and Uther are inclined to believe. She knows she if they take her away she will be killed or worse.

“Never little princess,” Jory assures her as he kneels before her, “we will protect you with our lives. Every one of your father’s men are your men as well and they would sooner die than let any harm come to you or Bran.” Sansa smiles sweetly as Jory reaches forward to cup her cheek, his gloved thumb rubbing the tears away from her cheek. “So long as I’m alive, they will never hurt you.”

“Morgana, it’s urgent!” Merlin’s voice comes through the door.

Vayon quickly lets the young manservant in and Merlin barely gives the guardsmen a glance before rushing over to Morgana and Sansa. “Morgana, the King wishes to speak with Sansa. Someone needs to take Lord Bran to the North, tonight.”

“I will not leave my sister!” Bran states angrily, but Merlin continues as if he said nothing.

“I heard him speaking with the Queen. He plans to use both Bran and Sansa as hostages to prevent the North from retaliation,” he tells her in one breath. Morgana’s eyes grow wide and quickly she stands, leaving Sansa on the ground. One hostage is tricky, because if you kill them then you lose your leverage, but with two that problem is eliminated.

“Morgana,” Sansa cries in fear, turning her eyes to her surrogate mother.

“It’s alright sweet girl,” Morgana assures her again, though she feels less strongly about it this time.

“Lady Sansa,” Merlin whispers, kneeling at her side, “do you trust me?”

“I trusted Arthur,” Sansa replies, her voice suddenly dark and more controlled than they’d ever heard it. With pained eyes the red haired beauty stood and walked away from her friend, sitting on the opposite side of Morgana’s bed, her back to all the occupants of the room.

Morgana exchanges a frightened look with Jory, stepping towards him while Bran watches them from his seat with a critical eye. She knows Bran means it when he says he will not leave his sister, not easily, for as much as Sansa plays his protector, he is more mature than she is by far. Under his father’s instruction he’s grown into a strong young boy, hell bent on protecting those around him, especially his sister. Jory knows as much and together they need to find a way to convince him that leaving for the North is the only way to save her.

“Lady Morgana, if what Merlin says is true, they’ll be looking for Sansa and Bran soon enough. They’ll focus on Sansa as she is the betrothed of the prince. Once they find her she will be heavily guarded, by the guards whom don’t love her as much no doubt. We need to get little Lord out of Camelot…” he glances over his shoulder at Bran, who sits next to his sister, holding her hand and whispering gently to her, “now, before the King arrives for Sansa. I can have four men start North with him within the hour, but you’ll need to buy some time for us. Extend his stay with Sansa for as long as you can. If you can buy us an hour or two they’ll have a far enough head start that I can send a raven to the Lord of the Riverlands to provide them with an escort. As Lady Stark’s family they will protect Bran with their lives,” Jory tells her.

Morgana looks over to the two siblings, “I will not keep Sansa in the King’s presence for more than an hour. You know as well as I that the King enjoys pretty girls. He will not have her as she is of noble blood, but I don’t want to chance it. If Robb Stark raises the banners, Uther will strip the Starks of their titles and nobility and there will be nothing to stop him from having her. Should the worst happen and she bears him a bastard boy he will cast Cersei aside and wed her. He lost his ability to love after Ygraine’s passing. I know I’m not the only one who has heard the screams that come from the royal bedchamber. There’ve been days Cersei cannot get out of bed. I will not have Sansa with that man longer than absolutely necessary. Do you understand me?” Morgana hisses angrily.

Jory nods to her before turning to Bran and Sansa. Sansa is crying again, her arms wrapped tightly around her younger brother who is also crying.

“What is going on?” Morgana asks Merlin, who stands with Beric to the side.

“Sansa is convincing Bran to leave.”

Stunned, Jory and Morgana turn back to look at them.

“You must go, Bran. I need you to go. I will be alright,” Sansa sobs, pulling back from her brother and reaching down to grab his hands. “Keep our family safe, avenge us.”

“They’ll hurt you,” Bran cries, desperation in his voice as he looks at his sister.

“Yes,” Sansa says truthfully, a terrified smile on her face, “but I’m not important. Robb will raise the banners, you know that. There is the very real chance Robb will die and our House needs an heir, a live heir. You are who needs to survive this Bran, not me.” With a tearful smile she turns to Jory and nods to him. Bran goes to Jory and Morgana goes to Sansa, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“Goodbye sister,” Bran whispers as Jory leads him from the room.

“Goodbye Bran,” Sansa whispers in return, turning to sob into Morgana’s waist.

Not four minutes later, two knights come to escort Sansa to the King.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to stress that Sansa is not stupid or ditzy, just a little girl. I hope I showed that she is smart in this chapter. She's prepared to die because she knows without her father how vulnerable she is and what will likely happen to her if Robb declares war.
> 
> And with Bran bound for Riverrun, some new characters will be introduced after the next chapter. The next chapter will feature Robb's POV.


	7. Robb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb hears of his father's arrest and war becomes a possibility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this Rhaegar and Lyanna are still alive and are the Lord and Lady of Harrenhal. They have two children, Jon (18) and Elizabeth (17).
> 
> Edmure is Lord of the Riverlands and is still married to Roslin, with a daughter, Corrie (15).
> 
> Rheagar Targaryen - Orlando Bloom (Legolas for LOTR)  
> Lyanna Stark - Eva Green (Morgan from Camelot)  
> Elizabeth Targaryen - Sarah Bolger (Princess Mary from The Tudors)

**Chapter 6 - Robb**

Robb Stark runs down the hallways of Winterfell, eager to make it to the main gate. He’s just received word that his Uncle Rhaegar and Aunt Lyanna have just arrived from Harrenhal along with his cousins, Jon and Elizabeth. They’ve come to celebrate his eighteenth nameday. His Uncle Edmure, Aunt Roslin, and their daughter Corrine are expected to arrive within a moon’s turn. He wants to greet them personally, as he, Jon, and Elizabeth have been close ever since they were small children and his father headed south with his sister Sansa and his infant brother Bran.

He throws open the outer doors to see Jon helping Elizabeth from her horse while his Uncle helps his Aunt.

“Robb!” Elizabeth yells as she half jumps from her brother’s arms, running towards him at full speed. Robb laughs in return, easily catching her in his arms and twirling her through the air.

“I’ve missed you Lizzie,” he says with a wide smile as he kisses her cheek. “I trust you’ve been well?”

“Being a terror for mother and father of course, but did you expect anything else cousin?” Jon asks with a chuckles as he approaches the pair.

“And what is it they’ve done to earn your scorn this time my Lady?” Robb inquires, lifting an eyebrow.

“Mother wishes to marry Elizabeth to the son of Lord Tywin and my sister is not terribly keen on the idea,” Jon informs him, humor sparkling in his eyes.

Robb can’t help but laugh at Elizabeth’s annoyed expression. “Well you’re the lucky one Jon Targaryen, you keep not only the name but Harrenhal. Would you want to be subject to Jaime Lannister? The man is vile as is his family,” Elizabeth counters, batting away her brother’s teasing hand.

Robb is about to rebuff his cousin’s impression of the Queen’s brother when he sees his mother’s handmaiden exit the castle, a worried expression on her face. Her dark eyes scan the courtyard for a moment before landing on him.

“Young Lord!” she calls, gathering her skirts in her hands and running towards him.

“Eya? Is something wrong?” Robb asks her worriedly, his aunt and uncle coming up behind their children in concern.

“A raven has arrived from Camelot, bearing both the royal and Stark seal. She asks for you as well as Lord and Lady Targaryen,” she tells him in one breath.

“Is it from my father? What is it Eya?” Robb presses, grabbing the handmaiden’s upper arm.

“It is from your Lady sister, she says your father has been arrested,” the girl stutters.

Robb’s eyes widen and all but throws her aside as he runs towards the castle, his aunt and uncle at his heels. He bursts into his mother’s chamber, to see tears in her eyes and a letter in her hand. Theon, ward of Winterfell, sits silent on one of the chairs to her side.

“Mother?” Robb asks as his Uncle Rhaegar and his Aunt Lyanna step to the side to allow him room. They’re watching him as he steps towards his mother slowly, fearful of whatever the letter says. He stops halfway, at Theon’s side, unable to continue. It is Theon who takes the letter from Lady Stark and hands it over to the acting Lord of Winterfell.

_Dearest Robb,_

_I write to tell you that a grave event has occurred. Our father, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, has been arrested for treason. He was caught conspiring with a sorcerer to bring down the King once I was married to the crowned prince._

_The trial is to be tomorrow and father’s fate will be decided. Should father be found guilty, you will be required to come and swear loyalty to the crown. Both Bran and I are deeply saddened by father’s treason and are in debt to the King for the kindness he’s shown us. I am still to marry my beloved prince at the year’s end and Bran will still be raised to knighthood. In exchange for the mercy they’ve shown us I ask if you would please come quickly._

_Your Sister,_

_Sansa Stark_

_House Stark and Tully_

_Lady of Winterfell_

_Princess of Camelot_

“Treason?” Robb asks incredulously as he stares at the letter from the capital. It’s his sister’s handwriting he knows, he’s kept in contact with her over the years, but it doesn’t sound like her. The words are too formal, too forgiving of the crown that means to murder their father. He looks up to Maester Luwin in disbelief, “Sansa wrote this?”

“It is your sister’s hand but the King’s words.”

  
“Father rots in a dungeon, how long before they take his head? I will not sit back and do nothing when they plan to murder my father. Raise the banners, we march on Camelot,” Robb says angrily, throwing the letter down before exiting the chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I always feel I'm posting and no one's reading, but that can't be true because I get an average of 3 kudos per chapter. So I'm glad you all are liking it. :) Don't forget to go watch the videos, while they might "spoil" the ending, there are a ton of things I threw into the story and there will be a lot of twists and turns.


	8. Edmure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmure prepares Riverrun for the (possible) war against Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrine is played by the beautiful Molly C. Quinn (better known as Alexis on CASTLE)
> 
> To know who plays Rhaegar, Lyanna, and Elizabeth, look to the previous chapter note. :)

**Chapter 7 - Edmure**

Edmure Tully is a simple man, he believes in three things: Family, Duty, and Honor. They are the words he lives by. So when he received word nearly a week ago that his good brother had been arrested on account of treason and that the Head Guardsmen of the House Stark was sending his youngest nephew to Riverrun, Edmure had immediately sent out an escort of five hundred men so that there would be no hope of the Pendragon army taking him back. When he’d received a second letter, this time by his niece, that his good brother was sentenced to execution, he told his men to prepare for war in the case that Robb decides to raise the banners. Since then he’s been busy preparing Riverrun to receive the heir of Winterfell.

It’s been a long few days since the arrival of the latest letter. He’s barely been able to see his wife or daughter in that time, but today is Corrine’s fifteenth nameday and there is nothing that will stop him from seeing her at the very least. She and his wife have been busy greeting the women and children of his vassal houses and coordinating a schedule so that someone is always mending clothes and overseeing the stockpile of food. Edmure doesn’t even know if his only daughter remembers that it’s her nameday; she’s said nothing about it. They’d originally planned to head North and celebrate her nameday with her cousin Robb. Corrine is most fond of her cousin, so much that for a period of time he’d entertained the thought of marrying her to him; but, despite their fondness, both parties involved had adamantly protested the idea, effectively ending the thought.

When Edmure finally finds his daughter, she’s sitting at a small table in the gardens, a large smile on her face as she both sews a blanket and discusses food necessities with his head squire. She looks beautiful, of course she always does, but she looks especially so at the moment. With the sun gleaming in her orange/red hair, a good natured sparkle in her ice blue eyes, and the gardens surrounding her, she looks like something sculpted by the gods. She’s beautiful, and it terrifies him. If Robb raises the banners and loses, Edmure knows his daughter will either be murdered or given to a commander as gift for his service. He can only hope that someone will take pity on her should he fall.

“Thank you Lady Corrine,” the squire says with a nod as he leaves to fulfill the order of food.

“Hard at work Corrine?” Edmure asks with a smile as comes closer to his daughter.

“If I know Robb at all, war is on the horizon father. There is much to be done,” she says with a secretive smile, though there is a seriousness to her eyes that Edmure would have liked to keep absent for another few years. She is just a girl, a woman technically, but unlike the South, those North of the Capital prefer not to consider a girl a woman until she is at least nineteen.

“Yes, and your involvement cannot be helped, but it does not mean you need to concern yourself with so much of it. Your nameday is still important sweet girl,” he tells her with a smile.

“Yes, but fifteen is not so important and I doubt highly Robb will be celebrating his which is in a few weeks time... and eighteen is far more important for a man. If he will not celebrate, neither will I. I would much rather celebrate life when the war ends with you, Robb, and cousin Sansa. You know the chances of her survival aren’t high. I may not know Sansa now, but I remember her when we were children. She was a lovely little girl and she does not deserve to be caught in this. I will not celebrate another year father, not when the chances that Sansa won’t so much as have another are so high,” Corrine replies bitterly, returning her eyes to her blanket.

It hurts Edmure to see her so bitter before the war has even officially been declared, but she speaks truth and they both know it. He wants to tell her that everything will be alright, but when he opens his mouth to speak, he cannot think of anything to say. He’s saved when his squire comes to announce that his nephew is an hour out. Corrine looks up and nods her head, standing and setting aside the blanket.

“I’ll tell mother so that we may prepare for him,” she says before turning to her handmaiden, whom Edmure suddenly notices lying on the grass. “Stay here if you wouldn’t mind, and finish the blanket.”

“Of course,” the girl says with a nod as she sits up. As his only child disappears with the squire, Edmure steps forward to overlook the blanket. He smiles, admiring the softness of the fabric. Leave it to Corrine to find a strong fabric that will surely keep the soldiers warm, and also happens to be soft. He opens his mouth to say something to his daughter’s handmaiden when he sees something blue in the corner.

Sansa is sewn into the blanket in perfect cursive. He stares down at it in confusion.

“She wants to remind the soldiers what they fight for, daughters of the Lords they serve. Sansa for the soldiers of the Starks, Elizabeth for those of Harrenhal, Corrine for those here of Riverrun, and there is a space left for any allies that come later. She doesn’t want them to lose their way,” the girl says with a smile as she picks up the needle and thread.

“You love her very much, don’t you?” Edmure asks, a knowing look in his eye. He knows what it’s like to have a servant that means the world to you.

“Do you know how I came to be Lady Corrine’s handmaiden, my Lord?” she asks in return, an affectionate smile on her face. She starts absentmindedly stitching her lady’s name.

“No, she went to the capital as a girl with her mother to visit Queen Cersei and returned with you. I believe she was ten years old.”

“Nine, my Lord, though I never would have guessed. There is a knight back in the Capital, Sir Agravaine, kin to Queen Ygraine. He blamed my mother for her death and when she died soon after her lady, I was his only outlet. He would beat me bloody. He liked to drink his pain away, so he only ever struck me when he was far into his cups. Whenever he sobered and realized what he’d done, he’d shower me with gifts, even though I was just a serving girl. Lady Corrine came upon him beating me in the gardens one night and she commanded him to leave me alone. He screamed profanity at her and she said nothing until he eventually quieted. She gave him this smile that I have never seen on someone as sweet as my Lady, before opening her mouth and letting out the loudest of shrieks I’ve ever heard. Four of your guard came to her rescue and took Sir Agravaine away to the king while she knelt beside me and asked me if I’d like to come away with her to Riverrun. I was eleven. I have been sworn to her ever since. She is the kindest woman I’ve ever known aside from Her Grace. So yes, my Lord, I love my Lady with all my heart.”

Edmure smiles, not at all surprised that his daughter would deceive his Guard to help someone in need.

“My Lord, if I may?” the girl asks.

“Speak freely, always. Has my daughter not said so before?” he asks. Most lands North of the Capital are especially close with their servants. The Northlands are some of the only places where servants and lowborn can be raised to counsel or be advisors.

“She has my Lord, but I am still of the South,” she says with a coy smile, “And what I mean to say is that an hour is half passed. If you are to meet your nephew at the Water Gate, you’d best be going,” she says with an affectionate smile before gathering the blanket and placing it in the sewing basket. “If you’ll excuse me my Lord, there is much I must do.”

Edmure gives a nod before rising from his chair and making his way to to the Water Gate. When he arrives, he sees his daughter smiling up at his nephew. She’s asking him of his travel and if he is hungry. His wife is with her, greeting the four Stark guardsmen that accompanied him. Seeing the way they shift from foot to foot, Edmure smiles at the knowledge that they are so devoted to his niece and nephew. With Bran safe, their nervousness means they worry for their other charge, the one they were forced to leave behind.

  
He is slightly more at ease to be assured that the Guard that they left behind will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. He doesn’t allow himself to consider that two hundred men is nothing compared to the thousands of the royal army.


	9. Eddard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not happy with this, but it's up. I go out of town for three days in a few hours. I'll try and post again before I go but I might not be able to. Again, I encourage everyone to go see the video for which I based this on.
> 
> Poll here: Who do you want Sansa to end up with? Throwing around a few people in my head but would appreciate some fan input.

**Chapter 8 - Eddard**

The water drips around him, a steady stream of consistency that Lord Eddard Stark can focus on. He’s been down in the dungeons for over a week, sentenced to die a traitor’s death. He can still see Sansa’s face when they passed the sentence. She’d screamed, falling to her knees in fury and agony at just the thought of his death. He’d tried to comfort her, but she couldn’t be comforted. She didn’t stop her haunting shrieks until Lord Beric went to her and gently took her in his arms.

_“Please Your Grace, whatever you want is yours, but please don’t do this!”_ she’d sobbed. While the Queen had been perfectly political, the King had quickly lost his patience with her. Yet the man didn't know that Sansa’s sobs were not purely of grief. Eddard’d seen the way the knights of Camelot had shifted uncomfortably along with the nobles of the court at her screams. Sansa had grown up with them, they’d seen her run around the castle, played with her in the gardens. The knights had been charmed by her since she was not much older then a toddler, entertaining her when she was young with their stories and fighting over her favors in tournaments. Sansa is everyone’s sister, everyone’s friend. While most write Sansa off as a classic lady, he knows she is smart, playing a game most aren’t aware she knows exists, and better yet she’s been playing it for years. She's played it since she was a toddler, the only skill she learned from the Queen as a child. He knows her public grief was a way to sway the people of the court who love her so dearly. She knows he will die, but if she places doubt in their minds, then perhaps they will not fight so hard against her brother when he comes. Sansa isn’t so stupid as people say she is, she knows war is coming, and she knows Robb will come not only to extract revenge, but to save her.

Eddard Stark is about to be try and sleep (though, as there is no windows he isn’t sure it’s night), when he sees a flicker of light. He looks up to see a shadow holding a torch in the distance. The closer the figure comes the more distorted he seems to look.

“Lord Stark,” a male voice calls out in a loud whisper.

“Merlin?” Eddard asks. Merlin is a favorite companion of both Sansa and Bran, despite the fact that he is Arthur’s manservant.

“Yes, Lord Stark, I come on behalf of your daughter,” Merlin says as he kneels next to the cell door.

“Sansa? Is she alright? And where is Bran? I did not see him at my trial,” he says to the manservant desperately. He doesn’t think he could ever forgive himself for telling Cersei if something happened to one of his children.

“Sansa has both crown and Stark guards with her and Jory sent Bran off to the Riverlands before they thought to look for him. They are both safe Lord Stark, but Sansa cannot sleep. Morgana thought if perhaps I came to you and saw that you are alright with my own eyes, she could sleep with some sort of peace.”

“Sansa,” Eddard breaths, smiling at the thought of his only daughter, “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I love her. Tell her to trust her family.”

“Why are you sorry Lord Stark? Sansa knows you would never betray the King.”

Eddard stops and takes a moment to observe the boy before him. Should he tell? Should he chance Sansa’s safety for something that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme? He should have left it alone the first time. If he’d left it alone then maybe he wouldn’t have been sentenced to death and his son wouldn’t be marching for war.

“Arthur is having an affair with the Queen,” he says, because war is inevitable, the more people that know, the more likely Uther is to spare his daughter. He is a Stark, of the North, of the ice and snow. He was born in winter, as were each of his children. They are all made of winter, even young Sansa. Winter is Coming, and only those who are ready will survive. The North never forgets.

 


	10. Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally coupled with the next chapter but it started getting long and I wanted to make the next part from Sansa's POV anyway.
> 
> I'm leaving today and coming back late Wednesday.
> 
> Let me know who you want Sansa to end up with!

**Chapter 9 - Arthur**

The day arrives for the beheading. Arthur can’t be more unwilling to get out of bed. No one has treated him the same since the trial. They hate him, some for what he’s done to Lord Stark, but mostly they hate him because of Sansa. He can still hear her screaming, loud shrieks of sadness, though he suspects they’re nothing compared to what he’ll hear today once they tell her the deed’s been done.

He hears his door open and he doesn’t say anything. Merlin is angry with him. No matter how many times Arthur’s tried to convince his manservant that it is Lord Stark’s fault for trying to bring down the King, Merlin isn’t buying it. He knows better than to believe it; therefore, he knows Arthur’s lying.

It takes a moment, but Arthur finally sits up and turns to his manservant, who is taking special care to avoid him.

“How is Sansa?” Arthur asks, though as soon as the words leave his mouth he knows they’re the wrong ones to say. Merlin’s head snaps up to look at him for the first time.

“Why don’t you go and see for yourself?” Merlin says bitterly. “I’m sure she’d be happy to see the one that sent her father to the gallows.”

“Merlin…”

“Will that be all my Lord?” Merlin snaps.

Arthur sighs, dismissing his manservant with a wave of his hand. He hasn’t been able to look many people in the eye as of late. The knights look at him with contempt, the maids and Gwen can barely look at him at all. They know he is lying. Everyone but his father knows he is lying and they hate him for it. They hate it because Lord Stark is a good man and they hate it most because they adore Sansa. Lord Stark is kind, but Sansa is adoring. When she was a girl, he used to watch her. She would climb onto the laps of his knights and peak over the shoulders of maids. She asked the knights to tell her stories and she asked the maids to walk with her in the gardens. As a little girl she made them love her, and that love has not lessened over time.

Arthur just finishes the last tie of his shirt when a knock vibrates the wood of his door.

“Come in,” Arthur calls, only to see his father’s personal manservant.

“The King requests your presence,” the young man tells him. Arthur nods and follows him out, down the hall to his father and Cersei’s chamber.

He sees Cersei first, sporting a new bruise on her eye that her handmaidens are covering with powder. She gives him a look of exasperation, but there is no sadness in her eyes. Why does he have to love such a hateful woman? They are condemning an innocent man to death and she does not even have the decency to look upset.

His father comes in from the accompanying room with Morgana, who is glaring hatefully at their King.

“Arthur, if you would please accompany Lady Sansa to the courtyard?” his father asks him, barely meeting Arthur’s eyes, too caught up in the papers in his hand.

“What?” both Morgana and Arthur exclaim in unison. Arthur’s stomach tightens at the words. His father cannot possibly be suggesting that Sansa attend the beheading of her own father?

“Your Grace,” Morgana hisses angrily, “you cannot possibly be so cruel as to force that little girl to witness her father’s execution!”

“Cersei mentioned it and I agree, Sansa needs to know the consequences of treason. I am not convinced she was not aware of the plot. She is lucky I let her keep her head. I might still have taken it from her had her brother not run off in the night.” Uther says the words too casual.

Arthur turns to face Cersei, who’s smiling at him. He cannot believe she would do such a thing. He knows she is jealous, as Sansa is young and beautiful and engaged to be married to him, but to suggest such an awful thing?

“Father, Sansa is well loved here in Camelot. I fear if the court hears her cries when her father is killed, we will lose support. It is better to hide her away for some time,” Arthur reasons, hoping to shield his betrothed from at least this.

“They are loyal to me or they aren’t. If they can be so easily swayed by a child, then they are not fit for the royal armies. The matter is done, get her at the hour’s end.”

“You cannot do this!” Morgana shrieks angrily. “Uther, please!”

“Morgana, I have had enough of your interference and your coddling of the girl. I cannot trust you to be silent in this, you will be shut away in your rooms until after the execution.”

“No!” Morgana screams, turning her eyes desperately to Arthur. He knows she worries for Sansa, someone needs to be there for Sansa. He looks away, because he cannot be her ally, not hers or Sansa’s.

Morgana’s screams echo down the halls as they drag her away to her chambers.

  
“Go,” Uther commands as he and Cersei stand tall by the door, “retrieve your betrothed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like we needed further proof for Uther being a jackass.


	11. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa watches her father die.

**Chapter 10 - Sansa**

Sansa doesn’t know what to think. She should be angry, sad, something! But she isn’t, just numb. She sits on a piano bench, one Robb sent her for her tenth nameday. Her face is neutral, granted her eyes are a bit tired. She did not sleep very well last night, barely at all. Not when she knew she’d be spending most of the day waiting to hear of her father’s death. Lord Beric is with her along with Jory. Vayon agreed to go to the execution to give her father the support of his Guard, and though it is selfish of her, she wants him with her. Morgana, as the ward of the King, has to be there, and as much as she trusts Lord Beric and Jory, Vayon has always been her closest companion. She used to be friends with his daughter back at Winterfell.

“My Lady, please eat something,” Gwen says from the table, where her food remains untouched.

Sansa doesn’t answer her, because the thought of food makes her sick. Her father is about to be murdered and they want her to eat?

  
She is saved from answering by a knock on the door. She doesn’t look to see who it is, she doesn’t care. She lets Gwen open it, ready to tell her to send whomever it is away.

“Prince Arthur!” Gwen shrieks in surprise, causing Sansa, Lord Beric, and Jory to all look towards him.

Sansa doesn’t rise for him even though she should. She’s too tired to play games today. He looks handsome, as he always does. There is regret on his face but she doesn’t care. He doesn’t care for her. He’s letting her father die. What is he in her chamber for? Come to gloat that he is executing her father? She feels the anger well inside her. She can’t understand how she ever loved him, trusted him. Morgana warned her not too, she should have listened. She wants to curse him, scream that he is destroying her and her family with his lies. She wants to cry, ask him if he ever loved her at all. She wants to ask him why he’s doing this to her when all she’s done is love him. But she says nothing, remaining silent, because silence is better then defiance.

“My Princess,” he says, a title he once spoke with affection to her.

“My Prince,” she whispers in return, there is no warmth to it. She looks horrible she knows, her face pale, her eyes bruised with lack of sleep, and her hair frizzed from the heat of the fire.

“My father has asked me to escort you to the courtyard.”

Sansa didn’t think it possible for the room to get anymore silent, but the minute those words leave Arthur Pendragon’s mouth, the silence became deafening. Any color on her face drained away in a moment. Uther wants her to watch her father die?

“Sansa,” Lord Beric whispers as he comes to her, sitting next to her on her piano bench. She’s too stunned to react to the arm that wraps around her shoulder.

Finally she turns to face him, her eyes widening as she looks up at him. “Don’t let me go, please Lord Beric, don’t let them take me,” she whispers pleadingly. It’s unfair of her and she knows it, his face is crestfallen. She can see that he wants to give her everything she asks, to protect her against the dragons of her nightmares.

“Little Princess…”

She cuts him off. “I’m sorry. I should not have asked this of you.” She turns to Gwen, hoping her eyes don’t betray her fear. “Gwen, help me dress.”

The men leave her chamber, leaving Sansa alone with her surrogate mother’s maidservant. The pair are silent as Gwen helps Sansa dress. Sansa asks for the robin blue dress at the back of her wardrobe. It is trimmed in gold with little silver direwolves stitched into the belt. She will look innocent in it, and should her father’s blood stain it, it will show brightly. The people will hate Uther for it, this she knows. It makes her sick that she is using her father’s murder for political gain, but she needs to make the court hate Uther, she needs to make it harder for them to fight against Robb. She is losing her father, she will not lose her brother too.

Gwen spends the next few minutes weaving Sansa’s hair into a complicated southern style. When she is done, Sansa knows she looks beautiful, even without face powder or berry balm. She looks like the grieving daughter she is, and the court will see it. Rising from her seat, she embraces Gwen before exiting her room.

Arthur stands outside her door. He’s nervous she can tell, but he offers her his arm. She takes it, not sparing her father’s Guard a glance, she’ll start crying if she does. They trail behind her.

When they make it to the courtyard, the people come to gather for the execution of her father gasp when they see her. Arthur leaves her at the steps of the platform and disappears into the castle to join his father on the balcony.

With a deep breath, Sansa gathers her skirts in her hands and ascends the steps. She freezes when she sees her father, standing at the center. She doesn’t stop herself, she runs to him, throwing her arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, clinging to him as two Pendragon knights try and pull her from him. She knows he wants to hug her back, but his hands are tied behind him so she hugs him all the harder. Somewhere in the back of her mind it registers that the people are yelling for her to be allowed this last comfort.

“Sansa,” her father whispers into her hair, “I love you Sansa.”

“I love you too,” she whispers as the knights finally succeed in prying her free of her father.

Sansa pulls herself from the knights, taking a moment to compose herself. She takes the next moment to look up at the balcony where Uther, Cersei, and Arthur stand. She doesn’t look at Arthur. She doesn’t look at Cersei. She looks straight at Uther with accusing eyes. She’s every bit as bitter as she appears to them. He can’t meet her eyes, busying himself with announcing her father’s “crime” to the court. She doesn’t let her eyes leave him through the whole of the speech. She only breaks away when he says the sentence. She looks to her father who looks at her.

Her bravery crumbles and she wants to fall to her knees, but she doesn’t. The tears pool in her eyes and out of the corner of her eyes she can see Morgana looking out the window of her bedchamber. Sansa begins to shake as they force her father to his knees. The people are yelling in anger, but she doesn’t hear them.

“No!” she screams before she comprehends the words, as the executioner raises his sword, “Don’t! No!” she screams hysterically, stepping towards her father unconsciously. She feels arms wrap around and she flies into pure panic mode. She fights against them, trying desperately to tear away from the arms holding her and get to her father. Desperate plea after desperate plea falls from her lips as Uther brings down his arm in unison with the sword. “No!” she continues, this time one long and desperate scream. The knight let her go.

Tears stream non-stop from her eyes as she falls to her knees, sobs tearing her apart from deep within. The pain is unbelievable, a true, physical pain of the heart. She can’t breath, her dress suddenly to tight. She doesn’t notice that some of her father’s blood has splattered across her, staining her dress and face. All she does is scream, long and high pitched wails of agony.

She doesn’t register anything, not the people, not the knights, just the pain, and a pair of arms wrapping around her and pulling her up.

“Sansa,” a voice whispers in comfort. She can’t place the voice, but she curls into the arms, feeling safe.

 **  
**Despite the comfort her sobs don’t lessen. She turns in his arms, taking a deep breath and letting out a loud and howling scream. It is the scream of a wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Uther sucks, I think we can establish that. Now it is time for the war to begin. The next chapter will be in Morgana's POV.
> 
> So right now the general idea seems to be for Gwaine or Merlin to end up with Sansa in the end. Anyone else want to through in any players?


	12. Morgana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana makes a difficult decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now Percival has been added to the running as he is Ned's "brave, gentle, and strong" that he always wanted for Sansa. So the contestants are Merlin, Gwaine, Percival, and "definitely not Arthur"
> 
> Anyone else?
> 
> I'm going to try and pair as many people as I can. Any thoughts on Elizabeth?

**Chapter 11 - Morgana**

Sansa screams one last time. It rings in the ears of all who hear it. It is the howl of a wolf and it makes Morgana both fill with rage and shrink away in pain. It makes her want to scream herself, at the unfairness of it all. Sansa doesn’t deserve to have the only family she’s known since she was a toddler taken from her. The girl’s brother is gone and her father’s just been executed before her eyes.

The King’s ward turns in a fury, throwing open the doors to her chambers and glaring at the knights there to shut her in.

“Lord Stark is dead. Your job is done,” she hisses angrily, marching passed them without another word. They don’t try and stop her.

The doors to Uther’s council chamber are open, protected by two knights who make no move to get in her way. She stalks passed them, her hands coiled into fists. She pays no attention to Cersei, her eyes narrowed in on Uther alone.

“You have blood on your hands Uther Pendragon, blood that will never wash off,” she tells him angrily.

He stops mid-sip from his goblet, turning his head to look at her. His blood is boiling beneath the surface she can tell, but she doesn’t care. He just let an innocent man die and everyone knows it but him. She’d scream at him, yell at the top of her lungs that Arthur is having an affair with Cersei, but he wouldn’t believe her anyway.

“Take care child or I’ll have you restrained,” he warns, but Morgana is beyond caring anymore. Cersei looks smug off to the side and Morgana wants to run a sword through her for what she’s done to the Stark family.

“You just try,” she tells him simply, turning on her heel and leaving the chamber to return to her room.

When she gets there she makes little work of changing out of her gown and into a riding dress. On her way out she grabs a fur to drape over herself so no one will ask where she plans to go.

She starts for the stables, but makes a stop at the court physician's chambers. She knows they would take Sansa to Merlin, and she wants to say goodbye. When she opens the door, she sees Sansa sitting on his bed in his room, her head bent. Merlin is in the common room, crushing spices under a rock when he notices her.

“How is she?” Morgana asks as Merlin comes to greet her.

“I wish there was something I could do,” he replies simply.

  
Morgana frowns, wishing she could say goodbye properly to the girl she’d mothered for ten years. Instead she turns and exits the room, going straight for the stables. There she swaps her furs for a cloak and mounts her white horse. With a nod to the guards, she leaves Camelot, her horse set North.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get to how Morgana knows the truth at a later date.


	13. Robb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a terribly exciting chapter, but it's needed to further the story. I just finished a later chapter with Sansa that will have you hating Uther even more. 
> 
> Now the nominees for Sansa's new man are Merlin, Percival, Gwaine, and "not Arthur". I've got a few thoughts on other pairs but I'm thinking Percival/Elizabeth if I don't put Percival with Sansa. Any thoughts?

**Chapter 12 - Robb**

“Robb!” comes the voice of Theon Greyjoy, along with the sound of running feet.

Robb turns his head to see his long time friend, indeed, running towards him. His friend stops at a screeching halt in front of him, his face grave with worry.

“What is it Theon?” Robb snaps, irritated that the ironborn would interrupt his lunch with his two cousins.

“A letter has arrived from Camelot, with the royal seal,” Theon says in a breath.

Robb rises quickly from his seat, sending the chair flying backward as he runs out the door to the Great Hall, Grey Wind hot on his heels. His men see him coming and open the doors to allow him entry. He is greeted by his mother, sitting on the ground in tears. The letter has fallen from her hands and his Aunt Lyanna is holding her.

The blood drains from his face and he doesn’t even have to read the letter to know what it says. Before anyone can say anything to him, he runs. He runs out of the Great Hall, out of the Castle, into the forest. He screams for a moment, at the top of his lungs, grasping his sword by the hilt and pulling it free. He throws it into the nearest tree, then pulls it back and hacks again, over and over. He doesn’t realize he’s crying till his vision blurs from so many and he stops.

There is a shadow at a short distance, the shadow of a woman. When his vision clears a little he recognizes her. He’s never seen her before but he knows who she is from Sansa’s letters. Hair blacker than the night’s sky, Sansa’d written. Lips redder than summer’s roses, she’d written. Beauty more pronounced than any she’d ever seen, she’d written. He knows who she is, Lady Morgana.

They stare at each other for a bit, before his Uncle Rhaegar appears from the shadows and points his sword to her. Morgana doesn’t blink.

“Return to the castle Robb,” his uncle tells him, and so Robb does.

Once inside he informs Elizabeth of what has happened and goes with Jon to dress properly to receive her. He knows his Uncle Rhaegar won’t kill her, which means he has to see her in the Great Hall to hear her story and determine her fate. He removes his armor with Jon’s help and dresses warmly in his furs before returning to the Great Hall.

His Uncle Rhaegar, along with a few men bring her in, dressed in a new black dress and cloak. A man pulls the hood from her head and she looks up at him carefully.

“Why are you here?” he asks, noticing the look of contempt on his mother’s face. “Is this some kind of trick?” He thinks if it is, it’s a good one.

“Trust me it’s no trick,” she tells him slyly, a dark smile on her face, “I seek revenge as do you.” She removes her sword, which he only just notices she still wears. She lays it across her open palms like an offering. “If you’ll accept it, I’ve come to offer my help.”

Robb smiles despite himself. He knows she tells him the truth. He’s heard of her from Sansa, Bran, and his now deceased father and they all speak highly of her. It might take a bit to convince the other Lords, but Robb is certain of her truth.

“Come, join me in my chamber. We have much to discus,” he says, rising from his seat at the highborn table on the platform. The Lords scuff about him, but he ignores them, instead stepping forward to offer Lady Morgana his arm. She takes it gladly, following him as he leads her down the long hallway to his chambers.

The room is spacious but sparingly decorated. A moderately sized bed is in the corner, a large table is in the middle, and a fireplace large enough for Morgana to stand in is on the wall opposite his bed. It will do for his purpose though.

“May I ask you something My Lord?” she asks him as he pulls out her seat.

“Call me Robb if I may call you Morgana? And speak freely,” he tells her as he shrugs off his furs, his chambers much warmer than the Great Hall.

“Why did you invite me here?” she asks him. He smiles in return, dropping his furs across the back of the opposite chair. He goes to the fireplace and plucks a dark wood box from the mantle. Returning to the table, he pushes it towards her.

“This is why,” he replies with a smile as she opens the box, to find it filled with letters, from Sansa. “Sansa trusts you and that’s enough for me.”

 


	14. Corrine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrine is the daughter of Edmure and Roslin.

**Chapter 13 - Corrine**

Corrine isn’t usually a frantic sort of girl, but with her cousin’s army not far out and the castle still in disarray, panic is setting in. They don’t have enough cots for the men to sleep in, or enough physicians to be prepared for any sick or injured, and they don’t have enough meat to properly feed the soldiers. In some places it isn’t customary for so much to be done for simple soldiers, but they are all in the South and in the North, soldiers are cared for as if they are the sons of the Lords themselves.

“It’ll be alright cousin,” Bran tells her with a relaxing smile, instantly putting her at ease.

“You’re right, of course,” she says with a smile in return, “So are you excited to meet your brother and mother?”

Bran gives her a thoughtful look. “I never really missed them. Father left with Sansa and I when I was only a fortnight old. Mother wrote me on occasion but Robb barely did at all. Everything was always for Sansa, letters, gifts, everything. They had time to be with her before she left, had time to love her. He loves Sansa far more than me and that has always been how it is. I never cared in Camelot because I was never really going to see them again. As Queen, Sansa would have to travel to visit with all the Lords and she would see them. She used to say she would have me protect the royal children, because then she’d never have to worry, that I’d protect them. I never expected to meet Robb, and now I am his heir? To inherit Winterfell should he die? I never wanted to be anything other than a knight. Do you think I could convince Robb to let Sansa’s children inherit?”

Corrine’s heart breaks for her youngest cousin. She’s met Bran before, when he was a toddler at Camelot. He’d run around her skirt, pulling at her with the biggest of smiles on his face. He’d asked if she was his mother, because she looked like his sister and he’d been told his sister looked like their mother.

“My Lady,” her handmaiden, Eryan, says as she enters the gardens, stopping in her tracks when she notices Bran, “My Lord.”

“What is it Eryan?” Corrine asks.

“Lord Stark has been spotted on the horizon My Lady.”

“Lord Stark is dead,” Bran hisses angrily, taking a step towards her but Corrine tightens her hold.

“My apologies My Lord, Lord Robb has been spotted,” Eryan quickly corrects. Corrine knows Eryan has felt the loss of a parent, she thinks maybe Eryan will be good for Bran in the coming days. She doubts Bran will be able to form a bond with his family after so long.

“Tell mother and father I will be there in a moment.”

Eryan nods, disappearing into the shadows of the trees. Corrine takes the moment to turn to Bran. The look he’s giving her is pained and she takes a deep breath before bending down and taking his hands.

“Bran, you don’t have to come with us to greet Robb and Aunt Catelyn. I can greet them alone,” she assures him, because Bran Stark deserves to be a child for a just a bit longer. She can see it in his eye, the gleam of the broken. There is a sparkle of childhood there, but with his father dead, his sister likely to follow, a family he’s never known, and a duty he’s never had, it’s won’t stay for long.

“They would miss me. I am the heir,” Bran says, his eyes dark and sad.

“Don’t think on it, I’ll come up with an excuse. Go to your chambers and sleep. I will come and get you for the feast.” She kisses his forehead before straightening and watching him walk back towards the castle. With a smile, Corrine gathers her skirts and hurries to the Water Gate to greet her cousin.

Her mother and father are there already, shaking Robb’s hand and hugging her Aunt Catelyn. Robb’s family is behind him, still on their horses. She recognizes Elizabeth, Jon, Rhaegar, and Lyanna from one of her many trips to Winterfell, but she doesn’t recognize the woman to the left of Robb’s horse.

“Corrine!” Robb calls, his voice loud and joyful.

For the first time in a long time, Corrine is not prepared to see her cousin. He is too joyful, too arrogant in his step, to understand there is a war coming. She walks towards him with a fake smile, the politician’s smile. Robb meets her half way, snatching her around the waist and tossing her up into the air with ease. She laughs despite herself. It’s good to be in Robb’s arms again. When they were children, he used to toss her around just like this before cradling her close and whispering that one day their children would run around the gardens of Riverrun together. She had laughed and laughed, saying that no matter who each of them married, Robb would always be her prince and she would always be his princess. They may not have ever been a good match for marriage, but they would always be each other’s best friends.

“I’ve missed you cousin,” he whispers affectionately as he kisses her cheek.

“I’ve missed you too,” she replies, taking his arm as he leads her back to his family.

“Corrine, where is Bran?” her mother asks, looking behind them as if Bran is only hiding. Corrine curses her cousin when it is only then that he stops to look around for his brother and heir.

“Bran was very tired,” Corrine lies, “He will meet us at the feast.”

“Corrine…” her father starts, but Corrine interrupts him with her sweetest smile. He closes his mouth and says nothing more.

“Robb, we should be settling soon. The bannermen need to rest before the invasion,” Elizabeth cuts bitterly.

“Lady Elizabeth is right, we should allow the soldiers their rest,” Corrine agrees, her eyes never leaving Robb’s. Elizabeth and Corrine have never gotten along, too busy vying for Robb’s affection when they were younger. Corrine has since lost the childish need to be her cousin’s favorite, but it appears Elizabeth has not.

“Of course,” Robb says with a nod, mounting his horse in one fluid motion before reaching out his hand to Corrine. “My Lady?”

“My Lord,” Corrine replies with a giggle as he hoists her swiftly onto the back of his horse.

“So I see you remember my cousin Elizabeth, but the more forgettable of my cousins is Jon here,” Robb japes good naturedly.

“I remember Lord Jon quite well,” Corrine says with a smile, not missing the flush of the elder Targaryen’s cheeks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A potential crush between Jon and Corrine? Maybe. ;)
> 
> I had to make the Starks not perfect, sorry bout this.
> 
> Sansa's chapter is next and it might just cement your hatred of Uther, but there is an unlikely hero.


	15. Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uther crosses a line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't a "Sansa" POV chapter but this is the one I was talking about. Let me know what you think. Oh, and the unlikely hero is actually in the next chapter. I forgot I cut this up.

**Chapter 14 - Merlin**

Merlin can’t remember a time when he was more nervous than he is now. Standing in front of Lady Sansa’s door with a hand full of blue winter roses is a lot more nerve racking than he thought it would be, and it doesn’t help that the two knights guarding her door are snickering at his side. He’d glare at them if it wasn’t for the fact that they’re not the nicest of men and some of the few that don’t care for Sansa at all.

It takes a few moments before he finally works up the courage to knock on her door. When she opens it, his throat goes dry and everything he spent the morning practicing goes out the window. She’s dressed in a pretty blue gown and her hair has been left down to frame her face. For once she doesn’t look sad, tired, yes, a little lost, yes, but not sad.

“Merlin,” she greets him with soft eyes, opening the door farther so he can enter. It takes her a moment to notice the flowers in his hand, but when she does, she looks up at him with wide and wet eyes. Her mouth opens like she wants to say something, but no sound comes out and Merlin feels accomplished. She’s not smiling yet, but he feels the expression is just as precious.

“I had your brother send the seeds a long time ago,” he tells her shyly. Her eyebrows furrow, her breaths quicken, and she looks like she’s about to cry, but when she looks up at him, he sees something other than numbness and sadness in them for the first time since her father’s death three weeks ago. She looks at him in awe and gratitude. She lets out a half laugh as the tears start to stream down her face and her lips twist into something that resembles a smile.

“Can I...?” she asks after a moment and Merlin nearly smacks himself.

“Of course,” he replies, handing them to her.

He smiles to himself as he watches her sit on her bed, her fingers ghosting over the petals like they’re her last piece of home. Unfortunately her smile falls and the tears tug at the corners of her eyes too soon for Merlin’s taste. She doesn’t look at him, her eyes zeroed in on the flowers of her homeland.

“Do you think he’ll kill me?” Sansa asks him. He swallows.

“Uther won’t kill you. You’re his only advantage,” Merlin tells her.

“I wasn’t talking about him,” she replies simply, continuing to finger the flower petals, “He killed my father and no one knows why.”

Merlin swallows again. “I know why,” he says, his stomach twisting as her head snaps up to look at him. She’s silent and it unnerves him even more. He tells himself that it’s her right to know why war’s been brought over her and her family. She deserves to know. She deserves to know. She looks at him expectantly and he opens his mouth to tell her when the door slams open. Uther is standing in the doorway, a blind rage clouding his eyes.

Without a thought, Merlin stands in front of Uther, but he’s knocked away with ease. His vision blurs as his head knocks into the wall, but he can still see Uther grab Sansa by her hair. Uther is screaming and Sansa is crying, but Merlin can’t hear what either of them are saying. He fades in and out, but he hears her scream.

“No!”

Her voice echoes and he sees Uther throw her by her hair onto her bed. She continues to scream, but Uther doesn’t seem to care as he lifts the skirts of her dress.

His eyes drift closed for a second but he opens them when Stark Guard start to pour into the room. Suddenly Sansa’s screams change, as blood flies through the air. His vision begins to clear and Uther is gone. Sansa is crumpled at the floor by the foot of her bed, her skirts are ripped and stained with blood. He sees the body of Vayon Poole and another member of the Stark Guard lying on the floor with their eyes open and unseeing. Four knights of Camelot surround them, all dead, in pools of their own blood.

“Sansa,” he whispers, pushing himself off the wall and stumbling as he tries to near her. He reaches out a hand only for her to scream.

“Don’t touch me!”

“What happened?” a voice calls.

Merlin looks up to see Arthur, Gwaine, and Percival standing in the doorway, eyes wide at the massacre. Gwaine pushes passed Arthur, going to Sansa, only for her to scream again.

“What happened?” Gwaine asks, turning to Merlin.

Merlin swallows hard as all (but Sansa’s) eyes turn to look at him.

“Uther raped her. He had the knights kill the Stark Guard that came to save her. I think he’s arrested the rest.” Merlin watches hatefully as Arthur’s eyes grow wide.

“Sansa, it’s me, Gwaine,” Gwaine tries, careful to not touch her. When she doesn’t respond, he tries again. “Little Queen?” The title, the nickname, triggers something in her eyes and Merlin sees the Sansa from before the beheading again. She’s young and she’s scared and her eyes are wide and trusting as she looks up at her favorite knight, even as the tears continue to slide down her cheeks.

“G-Gwaine?” she asks through a shaky breath.

“Yes Little Queen, it’s me. I would like to take you to Gaius. May I lift you?” he asks her cautiously, as if she is a wounded bird. Sansa nods slowly, reaching her arms out to Gwaine as if he will save her from the evils of the world.

Jealousy pools in Merlin’s stomach. He can protect her. He’s a sorcerer and he can protect her... but he can’t. Gwaine’s talent is with a sword and wit. Gwaine can protect her without being executed for sorcery. Gwaine is the knight she always expected Arthur to be, and it almost physically hurts him to realize it. The blue winter roses he’s slaved over for years, weeding, fertilizing, and watering lie forgotten on the ground. Sansa’s curled in the arms of another and that other is whispering words of comfort into her ear as he takes her away to be looked at.

“What would make my father do this?” Arthur asks him, remaining behind to stare at the bodies of the fallen. “Morgana’s been gone for three weeks… what pushed him over the edge?”

Merlin suddenly feels ashamed. He’s been standing in a room, surrounded by bodies after the girl he cares greatly for has just been raped, and he’s spending his time being jealous? He’s about to tell Arthur that maybe it was his precious lover that planted the idea in Uther’s head, when he sees a piece of parchment on the floor. It has the seal of House Stark on the edge and his eyebrows furrow.

He reaches down to pick it up.

_Uther,_

_You’ve killed my father, you’ve imprisoned my sister, and you’ve declared war on me and mine. I have something of yours, something I think you’ll want. War is unavoidable, but I do not want my sister to be a casualty of it. I have your ward, Lady Morgana. I would like to propose a trade. Give me my sister and I return Lady Morgana unharmed. Reject these terms and you will find her body._

_Robb Stark_

_House Stark and Tully_

_King of the Northlands_

_(The North and The Riverlands)_

 


	16. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finally decides to have a heart for his little wife to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur becomes a better character from here on out. This is the last chapter of the first of the two videos from which this story is heavily based on.

**Chapter 15 - Arthur**

“It hurts,” Sansa whimpers.

After the battle in her chambers, Arthur insisted that her rooms be moved to the chamber next to his. There isn’t much he can protect her from, but he can protect her better if she’s closer to him. It was Cersei that planted the seed. She came to him after Sansa was taken to Gaius and gleefully told him that it’d been her that whispered in Uther’s ear that Robb Stark stole Morgana because Sansa probably told him that she was a weakness. She’d said that she’d told Uther that the wolf was probably raping Morgana every night. Cersei’d expected him to be proud of her, but for the first time, Arthur thinks he saw her clearly. He loves her, he knows that, but she’s been damaged beyond his repair and she wants to damage Sansa in the same way. He can’t let her do that, not any more than she already has. He swore to protect Sansa when he was first engaged to her, and while he’s been remiss in his duties thus far, he can protect her now. He can start acting like the man she always imagined him to be. She may never love him, but just maybe she’ll one day stop hating him.

“I know Little Queen,” Gwaine whispers affectionately to her. He hasn’t left her side since it happened, allowing her to curl up against him on her bed, acting the way Arthur knows he should be. He stays too, because he is her betrothed, but he stays to the shadows by the wall. Percival and Leon are also at her bedside, along with Gwen and Merlin. They all glare at him when they remember he’s there, but he won’t leave her right now, not when she needs the protection of the crown.

“I want Jory,” she moans, and it makes Arthur’s heart break. He’s done this to her, cursed her to this. He should have never allowed himself to fall for the Queen. When he was a boy it was so simple. He’d seen the depression his father’s new bride was falling into and he’d acted. He’d ask her to to ride with him or sup with him, anything to get her to smile. He’d developed a crush on her and then one day she’d kissed him. His father had once told him that love started with a kiss.

“Everything will be alright Sansa,” Gwaine continues to sooth, oblivious to Arthur’s inner turmoil.

“How do you know that?” Sansa asks him. Gwaine opens his mouth to speak, but Arthur makes his presence known by his own accord for the first time.

“Because,” he says in earnest, staring her straight in the eye, “I’m going to protect you. I won’t let anyone ever hurt you again.”

He leaves before anyone can say anything. He goes directly to the stables and orders a stable boy to ready his horse. He has another squire assist him with his armor.

“Where are you going Milord?” the stable boy asks as he careful straps Arthur in.

“Tell Sir Leon in an hour that I’ll be gone the week.”

“Is that a good idea milord? You know Robb Stark’s army has begun south. Just left Riverrun two days ago from what I hear.”

“I am aware. Tell Sir Leon what I told you,” Arthur replies, ignoring the stable boy as he kicks his horse into a gallop. There is only one way to protect Sansa, and that is to negotiate a treaty with Robb Stark. He will give the boy what he wants. He will return Sansa if he wants, he’ll let Sansa be Queen if he wants. He’ll do whatever his betrothed’s brother wants, because he’s going to protect Sansa, no matter what it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So is Arthur slightly forgivable? 
> 
> The next chapter picks up again with Robb. If you didn't catch it in this chapter, Robb has started south for Camelot. I have made the distance between Riverrun and Camelot about a week's ride.


	17. Robb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can not even begin to understand how unhappy I am with this one, but I've read it over too many times and I can't see a way to make it better.

**Chapter 16 - Robb**

“Send his head to his father!” Theon yells from his horse beside Robb’s.

Robb smirks to himself, as the thought is tempting, but he knows better than to do something so drastic with the most important prisoner they can ever hope of getting. It was his Aunt Lyanna that found the prince of Camelot passed out on a bed of grass. She’d decided to ride ahead and greet the vassal Lord that had agreed to house him and his army for the night. Instead she’d ridden back with word of the prince, who she believes must have hit his head.

“He’s more use to us alive then dead,” Robb sneers, calming the murmurs of agreement Theon had received from his men.

Prince Arthur begins to stir and Morgana stiffens at his other side, glaring down hatefully at her foster brother. She hasn’t told him much about Sansa’s treatment at Camelot since the arrest of his father, and the way she’s acting now worries him. Sansa never wrote much about her betrothed in her letters, just simple and courteous responses to any questions he asked her. She never glowed about him like she did with Morgana or Gwen or Merlin or Sirs Gwaine, Percival, Leon, and Elyan (though she always said Elyan favored their brother far more than he ever did her). Prince Arthur was never more than a footnote or a passing reference. As he watches the Prince rise to his knees and hold his hand to his pounding head Robb’s sure, he smirks again.

Morgana curls around his side, interlacing her fingers with his as they both wait for the Camelot Prince to look up.

When he does, his eyes grow wide. They flicker from Robb and Morgana’s joined hands, to each of them, to the large direwolves that surround him. Grey Wind is snarling menacingly along with Elizabeth’s direwolf Nymeria and the direwolf Robb had saved for Sansa when they first found them, Lady.

No one says anything as the direwolves started circling the Camelot prince.

“Bran,” Arthur whispers.

Robb looks between his heir and his prisoner. There is a thoughtfulness to Bran’s face that makes Robb understand why Arthur would believe that he might be an ally.

 

“I have nothing to say to you,” Bran replies simply, ignoring Arthur’s fallen expression.

“Corrine, patch him up as best you can. Uncle Rhaegar, take some men and build a cell for him,” Robb commands as he turns to Theon and tells him to have the men pitch the tents, that they’re to make camp for the night.

When night falls over the camp, Robb makes his way to the cell of the man he was once supposed have as a good brother. He is surprised when he sees that Corrine is still in there, sitting on a small stepping stool. Her blue Tully eyes flicker in the torchlight, and he can see that they are wet, but there is a pitiness to them that he does not like. He steps towards them, careful to stay in the shadows.

“Do you think he’ll hurt her?” Corrine asks, and Robb wonders if she means if Uther will hurt Sansa.

“My father is unpredictable, my Lady. I honestly don’t know what he is capable of anymore,” Arthur replies.

“Did you ever love her?” The question is soft and there is an innocence to it, Robb half wants to hear the answer.

“Not the way I should have,” Arthur admits sadly. It makes Robb angry, how dare the man feel sorry when he’s done nothing but evil!

“Corrine,” Robb says in what his men call his “King” voice, “go and help Aunt Lyanna and Elizabeth feed the men.”

“Yes Your Grace,” she replies bitterly. It hurts a little to hear her speak to him that way. She has always been his favorite cousin, his most trusted companion, but she’s been angry with him since his arrival from Winterfell at Riverrun. He can’t think on it now, because he has so much he needs to do, but it nags at him. The cousin that never once called him My Lord unless they were playing Lords and Ladies, has been nothing but cordial and formal with him.

He pushes it aside when she walks away and he turns his attention to his prisoner. With a deep breath he enters the cage, Grey Wind trotting in behind him.

“My brother, he saw you with the Queen. My father learned the truth, and you had him executed,” Robb snarls, much like he imagines Grey Wind would if he could speak.

“I’m ashamed of what I did. It was cowardly. I wanted to stop it… I froze!” Arthur replies, his voice turning from sensible to panicked as he stares up at Robb with fearful and regretful eyes. “I am truely sorry.”

Robb watches as Grey Wind steps towards the Camelot prince, snarling menacingly while the Pendragon heir looks on, afraid. He looks up at Robb, fear in his eyes as he pleads for mercy, and Robb steps back. There is something in them, something that Robb can understand. The prince is sorry, truly sorry for what he has done. Robb can see it all, every regret and every mistake.

The King of the Northlands whirls around as he going off to his tent, suddenly so unsure about himself and everything he believes to be true. He’s angry for the wrongful death of his father and the imprisonment of his sister, but he is not this man. He is not a killer or conqueror. He doesn’t want the throne but now he has it. What will he do when the fighting is done and thousands of men will be dead? Who else will die for his vengeance?

He can see them all out the flap of his tent.

Corrine is smiling down at a cold soldier not much older than herself as she sets her basket down and curls a blanket around the man’s shoulders. She’s smiling and laughing slightly as she rubs her hands up and down the man’s shoulders. He looks scared and she’s giving him comfort.

Jon is standing with Theon, watching Corrine. Jon is smiling, something he so rarely does, as he watches the red head.

His Aunt Lyanna and Uncle Rhaegar are both standing by a fire with his mother, probably speaking fondly of his father or their children.

Elizabeth is sitting with his Uncle Edmure, Elizabeth likely speaking of her and Jon’s half brother and sister who were left at Harrenhal to look over the castle, and his Uncle Edmure probably speaking of his Aunt Roslin who was left at Riverrun to prepare for any wounded they come back with.

Morgana steps in front of his view, a look of concern on her face. “What concerns you?” she asks him gently. When he looks up to look her in the eye, he knows she can see his doubt. “Don’t be taken in by his fine words.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Arthur's admitted it.


	18. Leon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uther learns that Arthur is missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate these filler chapters, but they're vital to the story. To make up for them I'm posting two today, this one and another one in a few hours.

**Chapter 17 - Leon**

Leon stands when he notices a flicker of red on the King’s Road out Sansa’s window. The others look up to observe him for minute before returning their eyes to their respective tasks. Gwen is mending one of Cersei’s gowns, Elyan is helping her by smoothing out the rest of the gown over his lap, Merlin is fussing about Sansa’s room, Percival is sitting next to Leon’s chair, holding Sansa’s hand, and Gwaine is laying on Sansa’s bed with her small body tucked in against him.

“I see riders, might be Arthur,” Leon says to the quiet group, as Sansa is sleeping peacefully for the first time in days. With a soft smile he bends over to brush his lips against his sleeping beauty’s forehead, promising her sleeping form that he’ll be back soon.

Everyone nods their goodbyes to him as he goes to greet the riders. When he arrives at the castle gate, he is disappointed to see that it is only Sir Jorah and a few others, the knights he’d sent out to find Arthur after the stable boy had relayed the message.

“Any sign of him?” Leon asks, but the man shakes his head.

“I went so far North as to only be an hour’s ride from the Stark camp. If he is anywhere, he is there. They must have captured him,” the older knight says solemnly.

“I was afraid of that. Come, we will report the finding to the King and await further instruction,” Leon tells the haggard men, who follow him never the less.

On the way, Leon grabs the arm of a passing maid and tells her to alert the King that there is news regarding the prince. He watches as she runs off towards the royal chambers.

When the group arrives at the Great Hall, Leon sees that Uther and Cersei are there, along with the small council.

“Where’s my son?” Uther asks, his eyes searching the faces of the band of knights for his heir.

Leon swallows, already knowing that a negative report will do nothing but anger the King. He knows Uther won’t do anything to his knights, but he has already shown a frightening willingness to punish Sansa for the supposed crimes of her brother. He does not want to die, but he will before he ever allows Uther to lay one more hand on the girl. She is too fragile now, too frightened to ever recover from another attack, no matter what it is.

“There is no sign of Prince Arthur anywhere,” he finally says, and instantly, Cersei’s face contracts, her jaw clenched and her eyes hardened. He sees her flicker them over to her husband, who is boiling with rage.

“I want my son found!” Uther roars, slamming his hand into the side of a goblet and sending it flying.

Leon opens his mouth but says nothing for a moment, both unsure what to say and knowing it would be lost on the King at the moment. He needs a second to calm himself so that he may listen to reason. Perhaps they can send someone to negotiate a treaty?

“The Stark boy has him, doesn’t he?” Cersei asks after a moment of silence. For the first time, Leon sees only grief on her face, no anger. It takes years off her face, making her appear her age for once. He had always thought she looked forty instead of her thirty three. He almost feels sympathy for her… almost.

“We believe so,” Leon replies.

“Why?” she asks, “Why would they take him?”

“His motive is obvious,” Sir Agravaine says, speaking for the first time, “he seeks revenge.”

Uther’s jaw hardens before he glances to Gaius, one of the few other than Morgana who were vocal in their refusal to believe that Lord Stark could commit treason. Leon notices the slight shame in Uther’s eyes as he looks away.

“Perhaps if we sent a negotiator?” Leon finally suggests.

Uther seems to consider it when something takes over their Queen.

“Negotiate?” she screeches angrily, “The boy is a traitor. Robb Stark is a child. I took you for a King. A good King knows when to destroy his enemies. I should wear the armor, and you the gown.”

Silence falls over everyone in the room, their eyes wide and their mouths open at the boldness. They are shocked at not only their Queen’s words, but that she said them in front of others. Leon can see Uther’s fists coiling, but he knows that Uther would never strike her in view of others.

“You will show me some respect,” Uther demands angrily, his eyes piercing as he glares at his wife.

“I will go,” Sir Agravaine says from Leon’s left, in a clear attempt to turn Uther’s attention on to something else. “I will go to negotiate the release of both the Lady Morgana and Prince Arthur.”

“Go,” Uther commands, “take whatever you need.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is from the POV of Sir Agravaine. Anyone remember that he was the one that beat up Corrine's handmaiden? Will that enter the story's equation? Maybe, maybe not. 
> 
> I love the pairings for this story, Robb/Morgana and Jon/Corrine the most. I wish I could spend more time with them but then the story would go on and on.


	19. Robb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm several chapters ahead in the writing for this so forgot that Robb's chapter is before Agravaine, but at least he's in it.
> 
> I hate Tywin so he's sick/dying in this and Jaime is the acting Lord.

**Chapter 18 - Robb Stark**

It’s night when someone comes to tell Robb that a negotiator has been sent from Camelot. Having just finished the dinner in the Great Hall of a lessor Lord, Robb has the servants clear away the dishes and dismisses everyone he feels does not need to be in attendance. Once everyone is gone, only Morgana, his Uncles, Aunt Lyanna, cousins, Theon, Lords, and any personal servants remain.

When Sir Agravaine is announced and allowed to enter, Robb hears a slight gasp behind him. He turns his head to see Corrine rising from her seat and bowing her head with her maidservant, exchanging whispers before her maidservant goes running off and Corrine returns to her seat.

“So Uther has sent you to negotiate the release of his son and ward?” Robb asks, not even having to look at Morgana to know that she’s smirking at Sir Agravaine’s surprised expression.

“Yes, though it appears that Lady Morgana does not need rescuing,” Sir Agravaine replies. “Lord Robb, Camelot is prepared to-”

“I have no interest in what Camelot is prepared to offer. This is what I will give you: Your family must release Sansa, you must renounce all claim to the dominion of the North. From this time until the end of time, we are a free and independant Kingdom.”

“King in the North, King in the North,” the Lords echo.

“King in the North,” Theon agrees, giving Robb a supportive grin.

Robb takes pleasure at Agravaine’s stunned expression. The man came in looking at him as if he were a child, now he knows he’s serious.

“If he disregards this command,” Robb warns, though he notices Agravaine’s eyes shift to glance at Morgana before returning to him, “than he shall suffer the same fate as my father.”

“The King will never agree to these terms my Lord…”

“Did you not hear them?” Morgana hisses as she rises from her seat. Robb smirks at her from his seat, such a strong woman she is. If he has his way, she will make him a wonderful Queen. “The man you address is a King. You will take his terms to Uther and you tell him, that if he lays one hand on Sansa or the Stark Guard that I will personally see to it that his precious son never lives long enough to be King. I will not kill Uther, I will make him watch as Arthur screams for his life and then I will flay Uther’s pretty bride alive and I will make him watch it all. If Sansa is hurt at all I will make his life so miserable and painful that he will scream for death. That is the bargain he signs if he does not take the terms. Leave our sight and run off to tell Uther!” she screams, and Robb nearly begins laughing before the man even leaves the room.

Of course the threat is empty. Robb and his family have never believed in torture and he isn’t about to start now, but the point has been gotten across.

“Morgana,” Robb says in amusement as he rises from his seat, his furs still draped across his shoulder.

“That was barbaric,” Corrine cuts in before he can say more. He turns to face his favorite cousin, who has also risen from her seat, the only one other than himself and Morgana. “We are trying to gain support in the South. What support are we going to gain if we threaten to flay the Queen alive? You still need to rule after the war is won Your Grace, and for that, we need the Lannisters to at the very least not outwardly oppose us. That will never happen and you and your future children will never be safe if we send Cersei’s body. I do not care what she has done, she needs to be alive. Lord Lannister is very ill and everything is currently being run by his eldest son, Jaime. What we should be doing is sending a letter to Lord Jaime and telling him that so long as he doesn’t side with anyone we will send Cersei home unharmed and give him an engagement to secure the alliance. Form what Morgana has told us, Lord Jaime never wanted his sister to marry Uther in the first place.”

Robb suddenly feels very small compared to his cousin. She is three years his junior and yet she is thinking four steps ahead. He should have thought of that, should have considered it long before she did.

“Are you offering yourself for this match? Or are you cursing some other woman to the lion?” Elizabeth hisses angrily, advancing on his youngest cousin.

“I would not have suggested it if I was unwilling,” Corrine replies angrily. Robb doesn’t miss the sadness in her eyes at the thought as she looks down at Jon who is seated next to her. Jon looks equally distraught at the thought.

“Elizabeth, that is enough,” Uncle Rhaegar says as he rises from his seat, fixing his daughter with a pointed look. “Marrying Lady Corrine to Lord Jaime would do us nothing. We’d need to give him something he wants.”

Robb flickers his eyes back to Elizabeth. It’s no secret that Jaime Lannister has desired her since a torney years ago when Elizabeth was eleven and Lord Jaime was twenty seven. Robb had been at her side when he’d overheard Jaime’s words.

_“She is pretty now, but when she grows older, she will be **beautiful**.”_

“Theon,” Robb says, suddenly reminding everyone that they are in the presence of their King, not that he think it means anything to Corrine, his sweet and beautiful Corrine, “draft a letter to Lord Jaime of the Westerlands. Tell him that if he chooses to take no part in the war, or provide us with aid, that we will return his sister to him unharmed and send Elizabeth Targaryen of House Targaryen and Stark to be his future bride.”

“Robb!” Elizabeth screeches angrily as he turns on his heel, catching Corrine’s wet and breaking eyes, and leaves the Great Hall. “You stupid girl! You’ve always hated me and now you’ve turned our cousin against me! I will rip your eyes out and feed them to Nymeria.”

Robb feels his heart stall at her words and nearly turns around when he hears the sound of skin hitting skin and Corrine’s shriek of surprise or pain. The Great Hall has erupted into chaos behind him, but he can’t turn around. He has to show them that he is a King and Kings do not concern themselves with breaking up stupid fights and playing peacemaker between their own families. They are all safe he knows, Jon will protect Corrine and his Uncle Rhaegar will calm Elizabeth. It still doesn’t stop him from hurting, and once again he wonders if he has what it takes to rule.

  
“Sansa,” he reminds himself, his greatest treasure, “ _Sansa."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Robb, the stress is getting to him, and it's only going to get worse as the family continues to fight among themselves.


	20. Agravaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uther rejects the negotiation terms and Sir Agravaine feels sorry for Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you've read the last chapter which is from Robb's POV. I posted two chapters yesterday so you might have missed one.

**Chapter 19 - Agravaine**

“Sir Agravaine,” Sir Elyan calls as the older man slows his horse in order to properly speak with the knight, “have you any news?”

“Robb Stark and his camp are a two days ride away. Make sure the men are prepared, it won’t be long,” Sir Agravaine replies.

“Negotiation did not go well I take it?”

“Nothing His Grace will accept I assure you,” Sir Agravaine says as he kicks his horse into a gallop.

When he passes through the gate, he is about to dismount his horse when he sees Sir Gwaine and Lady Sansa walking down the steps of the side entrance. Sir Gwaine has his arm around Sansa’s waist and his other hand is holding hers to steady her. Sansa is pale and there are dark circles under her eyes. She looks so small compared to Gwaine and her eyes are dark and lifeless. What have they done to her? How terrible are they that they have allowed this to happen?

Tearing his eyes away from her, he dismounts his horse and allows the stable boy to take it. With a sigh he ascends the steps to the door and makes his way to the small council chambers. No doubt someone has alerted the King to his arrival and he’ll be wanting an update.

The doors open to reveal Uther, Cersei (the bruises on her face still clear), Gaius, Sir Leon, and a few others on the Small Council.

“What news have you?” Uther demands, his back to Agravaine.

“The boy wants Lady Sansa returned and the Northlands freed to become their own Kingdom,” Agravaine said, already knowing that Uther will refuse it.

“Out of the question,” Uther replies as he turns to face his former good brother.

“If you don’t do this you are allowing Prince Arthur and Lady Morgana’s death,” Leon speaks up.

“I cannot allow them what they want just because they have my children.”

“There is one more thing, Your Grace,” Agravaine says, knowing already this is not going to go well.

“What? What more can there be?” Cersei asks from his left.

“Lady Morgana was never kidnapped by Lord Stark, she went to them willingly. She has allied herself with them.”

“What?” Uther asks in surprise, betrayal seeping into his eyes. For a minute, Agravaine thinks he looks human, almost like he did when Ygraine was still alive and Arthur was a young boy.

“She told me that if you hurt Sansa then she will never come back.”

“Go, leave, now!” Uther commands, and no one needs to be told twice as they all scatter from the room.

With a sigh, Agravaine makes his way to Lady Sansa’s chamber. Before he left, Lady Corrine caught up to him and asked him to bring a letter to her cousin along with a small direwolf pendant. After everything Sansa’s been through he’d agreed.

When he arrives at Sansa’s chambers, he greets the two knights posted to her door and knocks.

“Come in,” he hears Gwen say from within.

He opens the door to find Sansa propped up in her bed with a robe around her body and a book in her lap. Gwen is fluffing her charge’s pillows and fussing the way Arthur has told him she does.

“Sir Agravaine,” Sansa says politely, it hurts him to see fear in her eyes. It reminds him of another thirteen year old girl who used to look at him with those same haunted eyes. He must admit that he admires her strength though, he’s always written Sansa off as a silly little girl who wants nothing more than to be a mother, but the fact that she’s survived her father’s murder before her eyes, her betrothed betraying her, her brother being taken from her, her only mother figure running off to join her brother, and being raped by Uther while still maintaining a calm mask of courtesy is saying something. She’s a strong young woman, she could have made Arthur very happy if he’d given her the chance.

“May I have a moment alone my Lady?” he asks, not missing the look of panic on Gwen’s face. He thinks he sees a flicker of something in Sansa’s eyes, but before he can look farther it’s gone.

“Give us a moment Gwen,” Sansa replies, giving her former mother figure’s handmaiden a smile of encouragement.

“Yes My Lady,” Gwen says, flashing him a warning glance before letting herself out.

“I’m not here to hurt you My Lady,” he assures the Princess. She gives him a neutral look, her lips curved into a hint of a false smile.

“Forgive me if I don’t take you at your word Sir Agravaine,” she tells him simply, her hands perfectly folded in her lap and her back straight as a board. While there is brokenness in her eyes, there is also defiance.

“I went to your brother’s camp, to negotiate and if possible, avoid war,” he observes her face, but there isn’t even a flicker of emotion. All she does is casually tilt her head the opposite way, her mask remaining perfectly in tact.

“If you were successful, I wouldn’t still be here.”

“You’re right, you’d be on a horse already being sent home. Unfortunately the King has refused your brother’s term; however, while I was at the camp, your cousin Corrine caught me on my way out. She asked me if I could give this to you.” He hands her the letter and the box.

“Corrine?” Sansa asks, surprise in her voice as she takes them from him.

“I will leave you to open them,” he says, nodding his head to her as he turns to leave.

“Sir Agravaine?” she asks as he places his hand on the handle.

“Yes Lady Sansa?”

“Thank you.”

“For what it’s worth Lady Sansa, you do have friends here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uther is losing his allies and Sansa is gaining advantageous friends. Uther will have to watch his step.


	21. Corrine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrine releases Arthur and pays the consequences.

**Chapter 20 - Corrine**

The fire crackles around her, but other than that, the grounds of the camp are silent. No one notices Corrine as she makes her way through the camp, towards the far back where the cage is. She knows what she is about to do is treason to her cousin, but she will gladly give her head for a chance that Sansa will be alright. She knows Uther will kill her cousin the minute he believes Morgana or his son is in danger. She can’t let her favorite cousin’s stupidity kill her other cousin.

“Lady Corrine?” Arthur asks as he flutters his eye, having been asleep, “What happened to your face?”

“Shh,” Corrine whispers as she removes a pocket knife, not in the mood to explain to him how she got her black eye and scratched cheek.

“What are you doing?” he asks as she cuts away his bonds.

“I’m letting you go,” she responds, giving him a serious look. “I know what you’ve done and you’ve got a chance to fix this. I’m letting you go, but you have to promise me that you’ll protect Sansa. You hear me?” she asks, clutching his shoulders as she looks at him with desperate eyes, “You do whatever it takes to protect Sansa.” Tears fill her eyes as she stares at him, “My family might die, everyone might die, and you owe it to us, to all of us to protect Sansa, even if we lose.” She sounds desperate and she knows it, but she has to believe he wouldn’t have come if he wasn’t ready to make peace. “Promise me this, promise me.”

“I will,” he tells her with a nod. She searches his eyes for any misdirect, for a hint of a lie but she doesn’t see one. She nods in return watching as he rises from the floor and exits the cage, going straight for a horse. He mounts the beast, looking back at her with honest eyes. “Thank you Lady Corrine.”

She nods to him one last time and watches him ride away. When he is gone she closes her eyes, “Seven help us all if I am wrong.” Corrine rises from the ground and quickly makes her way back to her room. Eryan helps her into a night shift and tucks her into bed, but Corrine does not get any sleep.

She rises early the next morning, dressing in an orange dress with ties in the front so she doesn’t have to wake Eryan. She makes her way through the halls of the lessor Lord’s castle, waiting for the shouts that are sure to come when it is discovered that Prince Arthur has escaped. She is actually surprised she hasn’t heard them already. Have they not noticed or are they simply keeping it quiet.?

When she makes it out to camp grounds around the castle, the soldiers stop to greet her, and she responds with a sweet smile and nod of her head. She travels the well worn path towards Robb’s council tent, as there are not enough rooms in the modest castle to house the noble families and fulfill the duties of a King. She smiles in spite of herself when she sees Robb talking with his mother, he is still her favorite cousin and no matter what he does, she will always love him most.

“Your Grace, Your Lady, he escaped in the night!” Lord Bolton calls, making Corrine’s mouth go dry.

“What?” Robb demands.

“His bounds were cut, someone had to have helped him,” Lord Bolton replies. Corrine can see the fury in her cousin’s eyes.

“One of the soldiers wouldn’t have done it, which means it was someone in the family. Gather my family in the Great Hall,” Robb commands Lord Bolton, who nods to his King as he leaves to complete the task.

Corrine sighs, following her cousin and Aunt Catelyn as they make their way to the Great Hall. It isn’t long after that, that they are joined by the rest of what Robb has affectionately dubbed “The Royal Family”, a term usually reserved for only the immediate family of the King. Her father is there along with the four Targaryens, Bran, and Theon.

“Someone has helped our prisoner escape, provided him with a knife or even cut the bonds themselves. I don’t know why, but the soldiers of the camp are loyal to me so I am not inclined to believe one of them did it. I do, however, believe that one of you might have done in in the hopes of peace before a war breaks out. This person has, no matter how true their intentions, committed treason. I will be lenient, but I must know who did it. If you confess now, it will be easier for you.”

Corrine says nothing, and no one else does either. She knows Robb won’t harm her but what good would telling him do? She wonders vaguely where Morgana is, but thinks nothing more of it when Robb turns to his only brother.

“Was it you, Bran?” Robb asks, his voice low and far harsher than it should be.

“No,” Bran replies.

“Are you sure?” Robb repeats, the look in his eyes tells Corrine that he believes Bran to be lying.

“I did not let him go,” Bran insists, his eyes wide to his brother.

“Don’t lie to me!” Robb yells, grabbing Bran by the front of his tunic. Corrine stiffens, Robb is breaking, she sees it; he’s never been meant to be a ruler and with Sansa in danger he’s not thinking straight. He’s never been able to think straight where Sansa is concerned. For the first time since meeting her, Corrine wishes the Lady Morgana was here, she knows how to make Robb see sense and reason when he doubts himself.

“Leave him alone!” Corrine screams as she runs towards her cousins, pushing Robb from his brother and holding Bran in her arms. The boy curls into her body and she holds him tightly, turning her eyes to glare at Robb. “It was me, I did it!” she hears the people around her gasp, but she doesn’t care, she focuses on Robb’s stunned eyes, “If you continue this way, Sansa will die, do you understand that? They will kill her. I only did what was necessary to protect Sansa. If for any reason we should lose we need to protect Sansa.”

Robb’s shocked expression slowly turns to anger and quickly she bends down so she is at eye level with her youngest cousin. She runs her hands down his arms in a soothing motion before whispering, “Go to Eryan, tell her what has happened and stay with her, alright?” Bran and Eryan bonded on the journey South over the loss of the only parent they’ve ever known. Her Aunt Catelyn has even begun to resent Eryan for it, unhappy that her son prefers the company of a handmaiden.

“Yes Corrine,” he agrees, running off to follow through with her command. Corrine takes a deep breath as she turns to face her cousin. She stands tall against her King, because no matter what he says she knows she did the right thing.

“Arrest her,” Robb commands, and Corrine nearly crumbles when she sees the look in his eye. She can handle anger, but the betrayal in them is something else entirely.

“Robb…” she whispers, tears trailing down her face as she stares up at him, “Robb please, I did this for you, for Sansa, to keep her safe.” She steps forward, reaching for him, but he turns away as a soldier clasps shackles around her wrists.

“If you would come with us My Lady,” the soldier she recognizes as a Targaryen man says, but she ignores him.

“Robb, you know this is right… Robb!”

He doesn’t look back and her heart drops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So do you agree with Corrine? Should she have let Arthur go? And should Robb have dealt with it the way he did?
> 
> Thoughts?


	22. Robb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana makes sense and Robb learns a startling secret while (maybe) revealing one of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone okay? I miss hearing you all trash the Royal Family.
> 
> I miss hearing your thoughts.

**Chapter 21 - Robb**

 

Robb is fuming when he enters his room, startling Morgana who is seated on the daybed with a book. She opens her mouth to say something, but he doesn’t give her the chance. He doesn’t think, allowing his impulses to take over as he throws his arms across the top of his desk, causing the things on his desk to go crashing to the floor.

 

He sees Morgana rise from the corner of his eye, but can’t look at her, still too angry. He tries to breath steadily, pressing his palms to the wood of the desk and leaning into it. How could Corrine do this to him? To them? Prince Arthur was the best political prisoner they could ever hope to get and she just lets him go? What’s to stop him from killing Sansa when he returns? Now that they know Morgana is not with him against her will, there is no reason to keep Sansa alive. Corrine has always been many things, but stupid has never been one of them. When did she get to be so defiant? She used worship the ground he walked on, taking everything he said at face value. She would have followed him to the grave if he’d asked and now she’s defying him at every turn. What happened to the cousin he used to adore? What happened to the sweet girl with pretty smiles and a musical laugh?

 

“Robb, what happened?” Morgana asks him.

 

“Corrine freed the prince,” he tells her.

 

She nods, looking thoughtful for a moment before looking at him. “Why?”

 

“Why?” he asks incredulously, “Does it matter?”

 

“Corrine and I don’t see eye to eye, you know that, but she has never said or done anything without a valid reason. If she released Arthur then she must have had a good reason. She must have told you, what is it?”

 

“She said it was because someone needs to protect Sansa should we lose,” Robb tells her, his anger diminishing but not his disappointment.

 

“She’s not wrong.” Morgana leans against the desk, her arms crossed.

 

“Are you saying I was wrong to arrest her?”

 

“No, she defied her King and she needs to be punished, but she is still your cousin and she has a head for politics. You would be wise to keep her at your side. She was right about Lord Jaime of the Westerlands, he’s promised us 22,000 soldiers and an invasion from the South while we invade from the North if we return Cersei and marry Elizabeth to him. Robb, I understand why she did what she did and you should be grateful even if you don’t agree, she did it to save your sister. Think on that,” Morgana tells him softly before exiting the room.

 

Robb takes a deep breath, the weight of the world weighing heavily on his shoulders. He leans against the table, burying his face in his hands when he hears the door open again.

 

He looks up to see Elizabeth standing in the doorway. She’s smiling softly, the way she did when they were children as she closes the door behind her.

 

“Not now Lizzie,” he says tiredly as she walks towards him.

 

“You have been betrayed by someone you love, I assumed you would need some company,” she tells him, sitting next to him on the desk, her hands curling around his crossed arm.

 

“She had a good reason she believed, I shouldn’t have been so hard on her,” he says, not noticing the way Elizabeth’s hand is trailing up his arm.

 

“Nonsense, she betrayed you, took away the only guarantee you had to make sure your sister remained unharmed,” she insists, leaning in closer than is considered appropriate. He’s suddenly aware that her voice is low and seductive and her breath is on his neck.

 

“Elizabeth, what are you doing?” he asks, reaching up to grab her hand.

 

She smiles at him, scooting off the desk to stand in front of him, “She’s never been good enough for you,” she whispers, leaning up to crash their lips together.

 

Robb’s stomach drops at the kiss, disgust welling within him as he pulls from her. She’s a lovely girl, truly beautiful with the hair and eyes of his Aunt Lyanna but the features of his Uncle Rhaegar. He’s never thought of her as anything more than a cousin, loving her almost as much as he loves Sansa. The thought of being anything more with her is repulsive.

 

“Lizzie,” he whispers, holding her hands in his to keep her from trying to kiss him again, “what are you doing?”

 

“Forget about her Robb, Corrine has done nothing but rebuff you. She defies you at every turn and she doesn’t love you the way I do. I’ve seen how you look at her and I know you love her. It’s obvious in everything you do. I don’t understand Robb, I love you more than she ever could,” Elizabeth cries as she reaches for him.

 

“Elizabeth, stop,” Robb commands, but she doesn’t, instead leaning in to kiss him again. He tries to politely push her away but she doesn’t stop her advances. Fed up with her, he pushes her, watching as she falls back onto the floor. She’s half drunk, he can tell that immediately and he wonders why he didn’t notice earlier. Her eyes are wet with tears and her skin is flushed pink, disappearing beneath her dress.

 

“What does she have that I don’t?” Elizabeth asks him bitterly, tears threatening to spill over her lashes.

 

“Elizabeth,” he whispers, stepping towards her to help her up, but she turns her head from him, ignoring his outstretched hand.

 

“Don’t! Why? Why can’t you just love me? We’d be a most perfect match with the dragons of the Targaryens and royalty of your line. Our children would be Kings and Queens and people would love them. What can Corrine give you? Nothing in comparison to me, and she doesn’t want you. She’ll never love you. I’ll do whatever you want, we’d be perfect together.”

 

“Lizzie,” he whispers again, kneeling next to her, gently taking her hand, “I love you how I love Sansa. You are dear to me, but we could never marry. I must marry Morgana. She is what will make the South follow me once I take the throne. She knows the Lords of the South, they love her and they will follow her. Alone, I only have the Lords of the North. Together we will be able to rule in peace. I cannot marry anyone else Elizabeth, but even if I could, I could never love you like that.” It breaks his heart to see her cry. He feels tears burn in his own eyes as he reaches up to cradle her cheek. He presses their foreheads together and grabs her hand. He listens to her sob, feels the shutters of her body against him, but he doesn’t let her go. He knows what it’s like to be so much in love that the thought of never being with them weighs like a permanent pain on your heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you believe he's in love with Corrine? Or is Elizabeth just beside herself?


	23. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur returns to Camelot and everything is about to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All about Arthur.

**Chapter 22 – Arthur**

He’s lucky the Starks were so good to him. He never would have had the strength to make it so far South on his own if they hadn’t fed him so well. He bought a horse off a farmer with the promise of payment after a day of walking and continued on at full speed for another day. Now he can see it, off in the distance, the home of his childhood. It doesn’t fill him with the same sense of pride that it had in it’s youth, but he’s happy to return none the less. He _will_ do what Lady Corrine asked of him, he will protect Sansa. Should the North lose he won’t allow his father to take her head, he’ll still marry her, allow her to rule as Queen. When his father dies he’ll allow her to return North if she wants, to rule the lands of her family. He’ll keep her safe, no matter the cost.

 

When he rides through the gates, the courtyard falls into chaos. He sees Gwen drop a bucket of water, running towards the servant’s door while knights scramble to his side and others go to ring the bells. It’s Leon that pulls him from the horse, screaming for someone to get Gaius. Arthur doesn’t believe he looks bad enough to truly warrant such urgency, but he hasn’t looked in the mirror in days.

 

They take him to Gaius’s rooms to discover that his arm is sprained and he’s covered in bruises, but that he is otherwise uninjured. With a warm smile, he assures the fussing crowd that he is alright and that he should see his father.

 

“The King is waiting for you in the throne room,” Leon tells him, hoisting him to his feet.

 

Arthur follows him, waiting till they are out of earshot to ask about Sansa.

 

“She’s better,” Leon replies stiffly, “can walk well on her own now. She’s a strong girl, but I fear much more of this will cause her to throw herself from a tower.”

 

“I expected as much,” Arthur says in turn, stopping in his tracks, his head hurting and bent. Leon stops too, turning to face him.

 

“Are you alright Sire?” Leon asks, and Arthur hates the formality of it. He used to have his knight’s trust, their love and confidence, now he is just a duty they share.

 

“We won’t let him ever hurt her again,” he tells the knight he’s known longest. “I will never let Uther hurt her again. I will sooner fall on my sword then allow her to _ever be harmed again_.”

 

He thinks he sees new respect in Leon’s eyes, but it’s gone as quick as it shows up. Leon only nods in reply and they’re on there way again. He still doesn’t trust him.

 

When the doors open to the throne room, Arthur is shocked to see that the whole of Camelot’s court is there, including Sansa, who looks so small compared to everyone else. He flickers his eyes to Cersei and his father, the ones that hurt his betrothed not long ago but are mere feet from her. He needs to protect her, shield somehow. He does the only thing he can. He walks towards her.

 

“My Prince,” she whispers, her face schooled into a diplomatic mask. If he knew her better maybe he’d have been skilled enough to detect a trace of fear or anger in her eyes, but he has never known her and he cannot see it.

 

“I missed you every night I was away,” he tells her, leaning forward to wrap his good arm around her. She stiffens in his arms but returns his hug like she would if she did love him. When he pulls back a fraction he kisses her forehead before returning to the center to answer his father’s questions. Cersei is glaring furiously at Sansa of all people and there is a fraction of guilt in his father’s eyes.

 

It doesn’t take long for Arthur to tell Uther a censored version of what happened. His father is even less pleased than he’d expected.

 

“He must be made to pay for his actions. We must strike back at him,” Uther insists as if it is so simple. Arthur isn’t entirely sure that the knights of Camelot will fight for them. They love Sansa too much, care for her too deeply to ever allow her brother’s defeat.

 

“Surely you understand the grief he feels for the loss of his father.” Out of the corner of his eye he can see Sansa’s downcast eyes flicker to him. At first they are sad, but slowly they turn angry. She’s glaring at him openly for a moment, only remembering where she is when Gwaine’s hand touches her shoulder. Arthur is shocked when he feels a flutter of jealousy at the innocent touch.

 

“It’s my responsibility to protect the people and this land from it’s enemies.” Uther does little more than scuff at Arthur’s remark and so the prince goes to retire to his room. When he arrives, Merlin is waiting with fresh clothes. His manservant helps him dress in silence, only speaking when he is about to leave.

 

“Protecting Sansa now will never make up for what you have done,” Merlin says quietly, his back to Arthur as he steps through the door, allowing it to fall closed behind him.

 

Arthur bites his lip, not bothering to yell after his manservant. Instead he sits at his table, slouched in the chair, his eyes glazed over as he looks out the window. His manservant is right, nothing can forgive what he has done. He is the reason her father is dead, the reason Sansa’s been violated, and the reason thousands will die in a war based on lies. What did he do it for? Love? For a woman so hateful? Is this what has become of him? The man Gwaine had said so long ago was the only nobleman worth dying for?

 

It echoes in his head, Sansa screaming for her father’s life, for the cruelty they forced her to watch. He can see it, the knight’s arms wrapped around her waist as she clawed at him, struggling to get free. Lord Stark’s face as he looked about the crowd was one of a man overtaken, with everything to lose and every will to live.

 

What he’s done to their family can never be forgiven.

 

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears a knock on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Arthur seems like he really is trying to change?


	24. Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei gets some unexpected news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I look into Cersei's head.

**Chapter 23 – Cersei**

 

Cersei all but flies into her lover’s room when he announces that she may enter. He is standing at his meeting table, looking every bit as handsome as she remembers.

 

“Arthur,” she moans, kissing him hard on the lips. She can breath again, with him safe and sound in her arms. He is her everything, the air she breaths, the water she drinks, the sun, the stars, and the moon. Without him she’d have thrown herself from the tallest tower soon after her marriage began. He’d made the terror of her marriage bed a bit less scary and he’d been the first to welcome her to Camelot. He’d greeted her that first time with a sweet and boyish smile, asking her if she would like to walk with him in the gardens.

 

“Cersei,” he moans as she kisses across his jaw. She needs to convince herself that he’s real, safe and away from the wolves of the North. He is too precious to be taken from her. If there are gods at all they will not deny her him. He is her only light in a world of pure darkness. When Uther tore through her on their wedding night, leaving her broken and bleeding in her bed, it was Arthur that came to see her when Gaius finally said it was alright. He’d brought her sweet cakes and a bouquet of forest lilies. He’d laid beside her in her bed, whispering stories that had her laughing far into the day. He took care of her when there was no one for her in the world, she will care for him now.

 

“Arthur…”

 

“Cersei!” he yells, and she stops mid-kiss. She’s hurt by the harshness of his tone, but says nothing. She looks at him, wondering what terrible news he has to tell her. Maybe he thinks Robb Stark will win. Maybe they need to run away together. She is a noblewoman, too accustomed to extreme comfort to ever work a farm or whatever it is the poor do, but the lesser Lords of her father’s lands will house them easily she’s sure. They will be welcomed into the castles to stay and she and Arthur can live in peace with many fair haired children.

 

“I don’t want to see you anymore,” he says, so calmly and with such finality that at first she thinks it a joke. After everything they’ve been through he is just going to throw it away?

 

The sun has begun to set and she can see the lines of Robb Stark’s army on the horizon. She hears the shouts of knights in the background, alerting everyone to the fact.

 

“Are you mad?” she asks him, her body trembling with both rage and fear. She cannot lose him. She will _not_ lose him.

 

“Get out now, leave me!” he demands, pointing to his door. His eyes are so angry, so regretful that something within her breaks.

 

“No,” she says in disbelief, shaking her head as if it will keep his words from being true. How can he do this to her? _Him_ , of all people. How can he give her the world and then take it away so easily? She _loves_ him, can’t he see that? How can he just toss her aside? He said he loved her. He said he’d love her until his dying breath. So many lies, so many secrets and he’s throwing it away.  “No!” she screams, throwing her arms into the objects on his desk, making them spill onto the floor loudly.

 

“I am going to tell my father,” he says, the madness continuing to spill from his mouth.

 

“You _are_ mad,” she accuses, barely able to see him passed her blurry tears.

 

“ _We_ condemned an innocent man to death but _you_ are the one that whispered in Uther’s ear that Sansa needed to see her father’s slaughter, you were the one that whispered that Robb must be raping Morgana because you _knew_ what he’d do,” his voice is rising with every word and she steps back unconsciously, “You took the terrible thing we’d done and you used it to extract revenge on a girl half your age who has done you no harm and you have the audacity to call _me mad_?” he screams into her face, causing a new flood of tears to fill her eyes.

 

“You love her is why!” she accuses, “She is young and beautiful and was so willing to please you. You’d have left me for her, I know it. I couldn’t lose you, I _cannot_ lose you. You are all that I have… Arthur…”

 

“Get out, now!” he roars at her and she screams but obeys, running down the hall to her own chambers, falling to the floor within them. She sobs and she screams and she clutches her bedpost like a lifeline. He loves the Northern whore more than her. He wants _her_. Cersei has given him everything, done everything so that they may be together.

 

She only looks up when there is a knock at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So do we feel any sympathy for Cersei? I do a little, but not for the most part.


	25. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur tells his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not happy with this, at all, but it's necessary to the story and as much as I'd have liked to imply it more than say it, I'm trying to be extremely accurate to the video this story expands on and this scene is in there.

**Chapter 24 – Arthur**

 

There is still sun streaming through the windows when Arthur makes it to the throne room where his father still stands. Uther has never been a good man; it has been many years since Arthur thought otherwise, but until recently his father was never an overly cruel one. Uther understands loyalty, a trait that allowed him to get along well with Lord Stark. It was a good match, the two of them. What has he done? How could have let this happen? How could he have orchestrated it?

 

“Father,” he says, knowing he must say it quickly or he will lose his nerve.

 

“What is it Arthur, I have a war that is about to begin at dawn,” Uther replies, not looking up at his son.

 

“It is about the war,” Arthur tells him nervously.

 

“What about it?” Uther asks, interest clearly peeked as he looked up from his maps.

 

“I have a confession to make.”

 

“Then go ahead and make it.”

 

“I am entirely to blame,” Arthur whispers, an assault of memories clouding his mind. He knows it is Bran that saw them, Robb said as much. He must have seen them through a window, maybe something so simple as him and Cersei speaking of something damning or maybe he witnessed the deed itself. His father looks confused, but Arthur can tell that he understands the gravity of this confession, though he doesn’t know yet what Arthur’s done. “I was so… arrogant.”

 

“What is it Arthur, what have you done?” Uther asks him.

 

“I lied, to you, to the court, to Camelot… about Lord Stark. I was stupid and selfish and he saw me doing something damning. I was scared,” his voice is picking up and he knows he’s making excuses, but Sansa’s screams are echoing in his head and everything is hitting him at once. He hears Cersei tell him she loves him and he feels it in his chest the love he has for her, “I reacted without thinking, did the only thing I could to save myself. I lied, I never saw him with a sorcerer, he never meant to takeover Camelot. It was all a lie and now I’ve cursed us all. I am the reason Bran will never see his father again and I am the reason Sansa will never properly be able to close her eyes at night and I am the reason all those men will die when Robb invades.” He takes a deep breath, noticing the mixture of disbelief and anger on his father’s face. Tears are clouding in his own, but he blinks them away. He wants to fall to his knees and beg his father’s forgiveness, but it is not truly his father’s forgiveness he desires

 

“Get out of my sight,” Uther hisses to him, not a word of question to Arthur’s actions, just a plain order.

 

Arthur doesn’t need to be told twice, he runs. His father was good friends with Lord Stark in his youth, having fostered at the Vale with Robert Baratheon and the future Lord of the North as a child. The fact that he lied and Uther had him killed for no valid reason will destroy him, but maybe he will adhere to Robb’s terms, maybe war will be avoided and Sansa will be allowed to return home.

 

He runs to the royal chambers hall, stopping short when he sees Sansa exit Cersei’s room. She comes out with a sneer on her face, but the minute she’s closed the door behind her it drops and she looks visibly shaken. She bows her head as she leans against the door behind her, shaking as sobs begin to course through her body. He wants to step out of the shadows and go to her, but what comfort will he be after all he’s done?

 

After a moment Sansa composes herself enough to disappear down a side hall. Curiously Arthur goes towards Cersei’s room, wondering what it is that could possibly have made Sansa go to see the woman that’s caused her nothing but misery. He opens the door to find Cersei staring out the window, looking down at the army that will be engaged in battle at dawn.

 

“Cersei…”

 

“We’ve done much evil, you and I,” she says, not breaking her line of sight.

 

“Did you ever feel sorry for what we did to Lord Stark?”

 

“No,” she replies simply, a hint of resignation in her voice.

 

“We’ve been cursed since we called Lord Stark a traitor, you with cruelty and me with stupidity.”

 

“This is the price, for what we’ve done… for our sins,” she murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next chapter is the first time we dip into Uther's mind, time to see what's going on inside his head now that Arthur's (half) told him the truth.


	26. Uther

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uther mourns what he's done.

**Chapter 25 – Uther**

He can’t believe it. When his son came to him and told him that he’d witnessed Ned speaking with a sorcerer and that he’d overheard them plot to overthrow the King once Sansa and Arthur married, Uther had found it difficult to believe. Ned Stark, while having never agreed with the ban on magic, would never have done something so overly devious. Why had he believed his son? How could he have thrown his friend’s life away so easily? Without even a shred of evidence?

 

He goes to his desk, leaning against it with his palms against the wood when his fingers brush against a thicker paper. He pulls it from under the stack of documents and his stomach drops.

 

_You are cordially invited_

_To the Royal Wedding_

_of_

_Prince Arthur & Lady Sansa_

_House Pendragon and House Stark_

It is the invitation to his son’s wedding to his best friend’s only daughter. Cersei brought it to him months ago to ask if he thought there should be direwolves on the invites as well as dragons. What has he done? He almost does become physically ill at his next thought.

 

He forced himself on a helpless girl who never meant him any harm. He listened to her scream and watched as the tears poured from her eyes. Now that he looks back on it, without the shadow of treason, he realizes how innocent she is in all this. He raped his son’s future bride, his childhood friend’s only daughter, for nothing of any matter. Sansa is as innocent as she’s always been, wanting nothing more than to love Arthur and be a good future Queen to his subjects.

 

He looks out the window, at his army preparing for battle. How many of them know the truth? That Ned was always innocent? How many of them give their loyalty to Sansa instead of him? He has no hope of winning, before he could make himself believe that his knights would fight for him because he thought he was right; now, he knows many of them won’t. Gwaine, Percival, and Leon especially are very attached to Sansa and he knows Elyan always held a soft spot for the younger boy, Bran. What he has done to that poor girl is unforgiveable and everyone knows it.

 

She never gave him any reason to doubt her, even if her father _had_ betrayed him, which he hadn’t.

 

_“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Your Grace.”_

 

Her voice echoes in his head, like a taunt from the gods for the sins he has committed.

 

_“I will be your good daughter when I’m old enough.”_

 

She’d been such a sweet child, always running about the grounds with Morgana fawning over her every need. He used to sit at his desk with the window open just so he could hear her laughter from the gardens below.

 

_“One day I hope to be half the queen, Queen Ygraine was.”_

She used to run around his legs, pulling at his tunic and asking if he’d dance with her. He’d always obliged her, stopping in his tracks to fawn over such a small child. Morgana hadn’t come to live with him until she was already ten years old (around the same time Little Sansa arrived), and he liked having a little girl to overindulge.

 

_“Will you dance with me Your Grace?”_

Her words had always been so polite, so sweet and kind. She’d most definitely been her father’s child, always level headed and loyal. His childhood friend had been referred to as his conscience in their youth, as Ned had always had a knack for talking him out of his more brutal ideas. They had made an excellent pair, balancing one another out.

 

Uther sits, the weight of his mistakes suffocating him. He can’t breath. He’s murdered his truest ally and he’s about to go to war with that man’s son, the very boy he held only minutes after his birth, the boy he clutched tightly in his arms while Ned screamed for his wife to wake while the blood poured from her body. He rejoiced with Ned when the physician said Lady Catelyn would live. He road North again when Sansa was born, held her in his arms with eight year old Arthur peaking over his shoulder to look at her. The smile on his friend’s face that day was wider and brighter then Uther had ever seen it. He’d been happy for his friend.

 

When that friend needed him, he said nothing, did nothing to stop his son’s accusations. He did what he thought was right and he couldn’t have been more wrong. He acted rash and irresponsibly over and over, bad decision after bad decision, and now there is no way to fix it. For his stupidity he has condemned thousands to die, for a battle they should never have been in.

 

It is all his fault, for Arthur may have stated the lie, but it was he that passed the sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still an ass, considering he's not going to agree to Robb's terms and stop the war before it starts.


	27. Rhaegar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar questions Robb's ability to rule, but his wife Lyanna assures him.

**Chapter 26 – Rhaegar**

  

**_Rhaegar                                                                                                  Lyanna_ **

Robb Stark is cracking under the pressure of Kinghood, Rhaegar can see it. The boy doesn’t listen to council unless it comes from Morgana. He takes her word too seriously, as if she has all the answers. It unnerves the blond Targaryen to see Robb so completely under her thumb. He can’t let his heart control him, not in a matter such as this, where so many lives rest in his hands.

 

“Rhaegar,” Lyanna says, bringing her horse over to his so she may lay her hand against his arm, “worrying before a battle accomplishes nothing. Robb will grow well into his Kinghood, he is just too young to understand how to rule at the moment. We are here, we can guide him. Once the war is over and Sansa is safe in his arms he will breathe enough to take our council. He is a good King, fair and just, more than Uther ever was. Ned wrote me and said Sansa has a good head for politics, Robb will listen to her, and Corrine once he decides to forgive her. We’ve got nothing to worry about other than winning this battle.”

 

Rhaegar smiles at his wife; she always knows what to say to calm him. He loves her more than he ever did Elia, though he’ll always carry a fondness for his deceased wife.

 

“I wish you’d stayed at River Bend with Corrine, Elizabeth, Bran, and Catelyn,” he tells her, affectionately tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

 

“Never,” she replies with a smile as they both turn to face their nephew and King. His jaw is set firm, his eyes are focused, he looks every bit the part of a King.

 

“It’s time,” Morgana says at his side.

 

Chaos erupts after that. Soldiers spill in all directions, attacking anyone in a red cloak. Edmure pulls back to trigger the flaming catapults while Rhaegar and his son have been tasked with finding Sansa as they are the only ones aside from Robb she might recognize.

 

Rhaegar and Jon make their way through the crowd of swords, fighting off anyone that dares get in their way. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Arthur leading a group of knights out a tunnel, but he doesn’t have time to be bitter about Arthur’s betrayal. He does stop a moment when he sees Uther join the fight, pulling his sword likes he is twenty years old again.

 

“They’ll have Sansa in the royal chambers!” Morgana yells as she comes up behind him, slashing her sword across a knight’s front.

 

“Morgana!” a man yells as he runs up towards them.

 

“Merlin, where is Sansa?”

 

“Arthur had her and Cersei shut away in the royal chambers,” he tells her, ducking as a rogue sword falls from someone’s hand.

 

“I’ll take Rhaegar to the royal chambers, you go to all the knights that fight for Sansa and tell them to remove their red cloaks so that the soldiers may tell them apart!” Morgana roars over the screams of battle. As Merlin runs off she turns to Rhaegar and Jon, “Follow me!”

 

They do, running through the crowd of fighting bodies.


	28. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camelot's first casualty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing for Sansa. I just wrote her next chapter which is Chapter 31 and I'm so excited for you all to read it, I think it's the best one yet.

**Chapter 27 - Sansa**

Sansa runs through the halls, her skirts gathered in her fists as she heads for the Great Hall. She will not be shut away, not when there are men dying for her. She sees Gwen with a torch in her hand, running alongside knights carrying wounded on stretchers and Sansa stops short. Fear creeps into her heart and terror fills her eyes.

 

No,” she whispers, tears pooling in her eyes as she runs towards him, falling to his side just as the knights lay his stretcher down on the hard stone of the Great Hall, “No, no, no, no, please,” she cries, pressing her fingers against the wound on the knight’s chest, “You cannot leave me, you can’t, I _need_ you.”

 

“Lady Sansa,” Gwen shouts, falling beside her, “you shouldn’t be here. You need to go back to the royal chambers and stay…” her face pales when she sees who it is Sansa is helping.

 

“Help him!” Sansa screams as more tears flood her pale blue eyes.

 

“Sansa,” the man whispers, his hand trembling as he reaches out to cup her face.

 

“You cannot leave me. Please don’t leave me, everyone leaves me,” she whisper-sobs as blood bubbles up through her fingers.

 

“Sansa,” Gwen whispers, but Sansa can’t hear her. She can’t hear anything anymore. Her body is shutting down to the world around her. All she knows is the blurred vision of the man dying beneath her hand, the pounding of her heart in her ears, and the numbingly cold terror that has taken over her soul.

 

“Please, don’t leave me,” she whispers again.

 

“It’s alright Sansa,” the man tells her sweetly, smiling softly to her despite his injury. He rubs his thumb across her cheek. Sansa blinks away her tears as realization comes over her. He’s asking her to let him die. “Sweet Sansa.”

 

A sob rips from her throat as she removes her fingers from his wound. His hand presses to hers and she holds it like a life line. She won’t let him go, won’t let him die alone. She wasn’t allowed to comfort her father as he waited to die, she won’t be separated from someone else whom she loves so easily.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, not knowing what else to say as she holds his hand to her lips. He’s dying for her, for protecting her. She knows a good many of the knights agreed to turn in the fight, to go against Camelot’s army in order to fight for her by aiding her brother. She knows he would have done anything for her, given her the world if she’d asked it of him.

 

She doesn’t scream when he closes his eyes for the last time, not like she did when her father passed. The coldness has overtaken her heart and a numbness as consumed her soul. Slowly she stands, the skirts of her dress covered in the blood of her friend. Her face has gone blank, but it isn’t until her hand falls from his that she realizes he had pressed something into her hand. There is a buzzing in her ear which she will later learn is Gwen’s voice.

 

It’s a key, and she knows what it unlocks the minute she sees it. Without a thought of potential consequences or a word to Gwen, she turns and she goes to the door, throwing one last look over her shoulder before disappearing into the hallway.

 

She sticks to the back halls, the ones the knights won’t be using tonight. She makes her way down the steps of the servant’s staircase. She continues downward until she makes it to the cells where only two knights stand guard.

 

“Lady Sansa,” one of the knights says, stepping towards her with an arm out to take hers, “are you alright?”

 

Sansa smiles sweetly to him, recognizing him as the fourth son of a Lord from the Riverlands. “Yes I am safe, Sir. My brother is here for me and I have come to ask you a question.”

 

“Anything Lady Sansa,” the other knight says, stepping forward. She recognizes him as well, he was just a boy of six when she first arrived to Camelot and they’d connected instantly as the two youngest children in the Castle.

 

“Where do your loyalties lie?” she asks, her facial expressions changing to a mask of smugness. She knows they won’t oppose her brother, but she also knows it will not be her brother they turn a blind eye for, it will be her. She’s spent the past ten years of her life making everyone in Camelot love her, not necessarily the Lords and Ladies (though she wasn’t foolish enough to ignore them completely), but the people that really matter, knights, maids, servants, and common folk.

 

“With you, Princess, with you,” they answer, and she smiles.

 

“Good, go upstairs and protect the Queen, she will be a valuable bargaining chip to Lord Jaime. I don’t want any surprises,” she tells them, nodding her head as they nod their and disappear up the stairs behind her.

 

Once they are gone, she steps into the dungeon, making her way down the hallway with her head held high. She stops only when she is at the last cell. It is dark, but she doesn’t need light to know that there are ten men with their heads bowed in the cell. They are surprisingly well groomed, but their clothes are worn and ragged.

 

“Good evening gentlemen,” Sansa says, relief flowing through her body as the one at the end looks up, likely to tell her off until he recognizes her.

 

“Sansa?” he asks, “What are you doing here?”

 

“Robb is here, we need you,” she says, reaching her hand through the bars to take his, “I need someone I can trust with me Jory.”

 

“Always,” he replies, the men echoing his statement. It isn’t until they are all out and turned to exit that Jory notices the tears in her eyes.

 

“Sansa, what is it little princess?”

 

“Sir Percival is dead,” she whispers, new tears filling her eyes.

 

“Oh Sansa,” he soothes, pulling her into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry everyone, if it makes anyone feel any better I kill off four people in the next chapter, only one being an enemy of the Starks, so this isn't actually that bad.


	29. Robb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb achieves his revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was such an uproar over what happened last chapter that I feel a need to reward my loyal readers. Though I do apologize, I forgot that I switched some things around. There will be three deaths NEXT chapter, from Morgana's POV.

**Chapter 28 – Robb**

Robb Stark has never seen so much blood in his life. It hurts him to see his people fall, the men that so willingly followed him into battle to save his sister and avenge his father. His sword arm works of it’s own accord, cutting through knights loyal to the crown, though he is noticing more and more Camelot knights shedding their Pendragon cloaks to turn and fight against those still loyal. He is pleased that his sister and father are so loved that these men turn traitor for them.

 

He makes his way towards a man, on the floor, shouting for something he cannot here. He recognizes the man by a description his sister sent in a letter so long ago.

 

When he finally makes it to the man he hoists him to his feet.

 

“Are you Merlin?” he shouts, though he knows the answer.

 

“Yes, you’re Robb Stark!”

 

“Yes, I need you to point me towards the King,” Robb yells over the roar of the battle. Merlin nods to him and points where Arthur and a man fight side by side among a circle of Camelot loyalists.

 

Robb’s vision blurs as tears flood his eyes. He remembers this man, from when Sansa was born. He’d only been five years old at the time, but he remembers the care the man gave them. He remembers the light metal play sword Robb still has that the man gave him for his nameday. He swallows hard, anger boiling his blood beneath his skin. He doesn’t even notice the fire balls the catapults are launching.

 

He screams, running towards the man that took his father’s life, made his sister watch, and forced him to all but sell Elizabeth to broker an alliance. He’s been forced to watch as his family unravels at the seams because this man took the word of a selfish boy over that of his friend. He feels satisfaction as his sword tears into the King’s abdomen. He doesn’t even notice as two cloakless Camelot men overpower Arthur. His eyes are glued to the man on the stone, convulsing as blood pours from his body.

 

Anger flashes through his entire body as Robb kneels next to the dying King. “You took everything from us, so you will die tonight.”

 

Robb has never been cruel, so he doesn’t walk away to let the King bleed out like most might have. Instead, he removes a knife from his boot. It’s silver blade sparkles in the firelight, but it is the words engraved into it that makes him feel a smug satisfaction when he cuts across the traitor King’s neck.

 

_Winter is Coming_

 

Swords drop around him once he stands. With the King dead and Arthur overpowered, even the loyalist of Camelot’s knights don’t see a reason to continue the fight. They drop their swords and allow his soldiers to capture them.

 

“King Robb Stark of Camelot!” someone shouts, but Robb doesn’t smile. He doesn’t care if he is crowned King, even though it becomes a chant, people screaming his name and title. He will not deviate from his true purpose.

 

“Where is Sansa?” he yells, silencing the echoed chant. “ _Where_ is my sister?” He turns to one of his soldiers, his face twisting with fear as he glares at him. With the King dead and the battle clearly won in his favor, Sansa’s last shred of protection is gone. There is nothing stopping a Camelot loyalist from killing her. He will not rejoice until she is safely in his arms. He has lost too much, he will not lose her.

 

“Your Grace,” someone says, but he ignores them.

 

_“Find Sansa!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Uther is dead, but now Sansa is at her least safe. 
> 
> Okay, I'm curious. Who is your favorite character and why? And what are your Sansa theories, I know people have them. :)


	30. Morgana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is reunited with Robb while Robb, Morgana, and Jon mourn dead and Cersei messes with Morgana's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more death after these 3.

**Chapter 29 – Morgana**

It takes longer for the news of Uther’s death to make it’s way through the castle, so Morgana says nothing, cutting through the knights that stand between her and the royal chambers. She is a woman on a mission. She will rip out the hearts of any that threaten to keep her from Sansa. She has already spent months away from the girl and she needs to hold her once again, see for herself that she is safe and unharmed.

 

When she makes it to the door of the Queen’s chamber, she hopes for Cersei’s sake that Sansa is with her, as the betrothed of Arthur’s room is empty. There is a mess of bodies around two knights who try and stop her but she runs them through with her sword, not giving them a chance to speak. She throws open the doors to see Cersei hiding under the bed, fear in her eyes, as if she truly thought Robb would lose.

 

“Where is Sansa?” Morgana demands, noticing the red head’s absence immediately. She advances on the blonde Queen, grabbing her by the hair Cersei loves so much and dragging her out from under the bed. “ _Where’s_ Sansa?”

 

“You’ll never find her you wolf whore,” Cersei hisses angrily as her hands jump up to try and pull Morgana’s hands away, “You’ve turned on your own blood. You’ve made it possible for those wolves to win.”

 

Morgana’s blood runs cold, what does this woman speak of? She may have been Uther’s ward, but she shares no blood with him. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Cersei asks, a smirk on her face as she looks up at Morgana, “It was Uther that sired you, not that precious little Lord you called father all your life.”

 

“It’s not true,” Morgana says, but her voice betrays her. It cannot be real, any of it, she _can’t_ be Uther’s daughter. Her hand slips from Cersei’s locks, allowing the Queen to pull away and rise from the floor.

 

“Oh but it is,” Cersei replies with a smug smirk as she takes step towards her, “Why do you think he took you so easily? Because of some love for an old friend? No, he did it because you are his daughter, the only daughter he’s ever had. Did you never wonder why he didn’t arrange for you to marry Arthur instead of a child from the bitter North? After all, who knew Camelot better then you? Who better then you had the love of the people? He couldn’t marry you to his son and make you Queen because you and Arthur are brother and sister.”

 

“No!” Morgana screams, dropping her sword to cover her ears. It’s not true! It can’t be true. She can’t be that monster’s child. Her father was a brave man, gentle, strong, _good_.

 

“He is your father and you sentenced him to death!” Cersei screams, advancing slowly. “You cry for the father Sansa lost but you have _murdered_ your own!”

 

“No, NO!” Morgana screams, tears pooling into her eyes as the Lannister woman comes closer.

 

“Leave her alone!” someone shouts, but Morgana cannot place the voice. She looks up to see a knight she doesn’t recognize placing shackles on Cersei’s wrists while Gwaine comes to her side to see if she’s alright. She nods to him, allowing him to help her to her feet. She can’t break down, Robb needs her to be strong.

 

“Robb has won, the King is dead,” Gwaine tells her, words she’d have loved to hear not five minutes ago. Now they send a flow of ice through her body. Gwaine is oblivious to her inner turmoil, turning to the knight, “take Lady Cersei to the dungeons, His Grace can decide what to do with her.”

 

The knight nods as Gwaine steers Morgana towards the Great Hall where he tells her Robb is.

 

When they get there, Robb is standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by rows of the dead. Jon is with him, on his knees beside two bodies. They are both crying and Morgana’s heart sinks in her chest. She immediately recognizes not only the two bodies Jon is kneeling next to, but the one next to them as well.

 

Rhaegar Targaryen looks as if he is merely sleeping, laid lovingly on a stretcher with his silver white hair spilling down his shoulders. If it weren’t for the stained red tunic, Morgan could have convinced herself he is merely playing a bad joke. Guilt eats away at her soul as she looks at Jon, his head bent low as sobs rack through his body. It was her idea that they split up to look for Sansa, and now Rhaegar is dead. His wife and Jon’s mother lays next to her husband, but no one can mistake her for sleeping. Her dress is stained red and half her face is burned away. Morgana cannot imagine that the Lady of Harrenhal’s death was a pleasant one. Jon has lost both his parents, something Morgana can relate to (for even if the Queen was right, her mother’s husband was still her father).

 

To the left of Rhaegar is Edmure Tully, his throat cut open by what appears to have been glass instead of a blade by the tears on his neck. Morgana may not get along well with Corrine, but she knows this will crush the girl and she morns for her. Edmure was a good man, he doesn’t deserve to be dead.

 

The whole thing makes Morgana sick, but she manages to hold it as the doors to the Great Hall open. Lord Beric and Jory hold them open as Sansa enters the Great Hall, her dress stained with copious amounts of blood and if it weren’t for the fact that Sansa appears unharmed, Morgana would be checking over every inch of her.

 

“Sansa,” Robb whispers when Sansa’s eyes land on him.

 

“Robb,” they hear her say, her eyes wide in disbelief. Tears are forming in her eyes as she steps forward, hesitating for a moment before breaking out into a run.

 

Morgana smiles as Sansa soars into Robb’s open arms, allowing him to sweep her up into the air far too easily for her liking. Has Sansa grown thinner in Morgana’s time away?

 

Both Robb and Sansa are crying, tears streaming down their faces as they hold one another. Sansa is murmuring something over and over and Robb is whispering soothing words. It is a sight to see, such love in one embrace. They aren’t a King and a Princess, they are two children, mourning the life that’s been taken from them.

 

“I’ve missed you sister,” Robb whispers into Sansa’s hair as he clutches her tightly to him, as if letting her go even a little will cause her to disappear.

 

“I knew you’d come for me,” Sansa sobs into his shoulder, burying her face into his neck.

 

“I will never leave you again,” he whispers into her hair.

 

“Percival is dead Robb,” Sansa cries. Morgana and Gwaine freeze mid-breath at her words.

 

“What?” Gwaine asks, tears in his eyes as he takes a step towards her. The moment is interrupted by Gaius.

 

“I apologize Your Grace but, the king is dead and Arthur is in prison. Dawn will break in an hour’s time and the people will be wanting an answer on what is to happen to their prince.”

 

“I’ll go see Arthur,” Morgana says, anger coursing through her. She wants to know if he has any knowledge of what Cersei told her. She wants to know if he really is her brother. Robb nods his agreement, though he is distracted by Sansa.

 

Morgana nods in return, turning on her heel to speak with her potential half-brother. Two Stark soldiers follow her, to protect the future Queen she realizes. As she walks towards the dungeons, she realizes that in the event of Arthur’s death (if she is his sister), she was to be the Queen anyway. She may be a bastard, but she would still be Uther’s only living child and therefore the next in line by right of birth.

 

She approaches the cell that holds her (maybe) half brother and stops as he looks up to face her. She wants to say something, but the words don’t come out. She just looks at him, suddenly at a loss for what to say.

 

“Are you my brother?” she finally asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote the last chapter of this story yesterday. There are 34/5 total depending how I decide to break it up. Then there is the epilogue which will probably be an additional 3/4 chapters and then this is over. I'll be away from my computer for the rest of today and most of tomorrow but I will post tomorrow. Next chapter is Jon's I think.


	31. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon bonds with his cousin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No tears for Edmure, Rhaegar, and Lyanna?
> 
> So I won't be directly saying whether Morgana is or is not a Pendragon. I'll include it later in a "deleted scenes" section.

**Chapter 30 – Jon**

“There you are, Robb has been worried,” Jon says as he steps out of the shadows. Sansa’s face is a mask of slight sadness, but the tears sliding down her face give her away. She has her back turned to him and she is crouched down besides two knights in front of the Queen’s door. She is brushing the out of one of their eyes.

 

“Robb can wait, I have not been gone long,” she replies, he can hear the stuffiness of her voice. “These men were sworn to me, but Gwaine tells me it was Morgana that killed them.”

 

“I’m sure she did not know,” he defends, he rather likes the former King’s ward even if she is constantly at odds with Corrine.

 

“I’m sure she didn’t,” Sansa agrees with a nod, “but did she give him a chance to say otherwise? Did she even notice that he wasn’t fighting her?” she asks, gently brushing her hand against the boyish face of the knight she played with as a child. “I knew him well, he and I played together as small children.” He can tell by the portion of her face that he can see, that she’s smiling sadly, but the smile drops as quickly as it appeared. “I told him to protect the Queen because she is a valuable bargaining chip.” She pulls her hand back, pressing two fingers against her temple, to starve off a headache he imagines. She rises, turning to face him. “They were just doing what I asked of them.”

 

“I am sorry Sansa,” he tells her, not knowing what else to say. Unlike Robb, Morgana, and Corrine, he has never met Sansa. The two of them have no bond, nothing but the blood in their veins to bind them together at all.

 

“Forgive me,” she says after a moment, brushing away the wetness from her eyes to give him a neutral mask, “I cry over knights while you have just lost your mother and father. I am sorry for it. I did not know my Uncle or Aunt, but Robb spoke highly of them in his letters.” Her face softens and he gives her a tight smile. He can’t think on his parents, not now when there is work to be done. He can mourn them later, in the privacy of his own chamber.

 

“Robb has asked that you come and sit on his Small Council,” he tells her, changing the subject. He extends his arm to her and she takes it, giving him the softest of smiles as they walk in silence towards the Small Council chambers.

 

“Jon,” she says as they walk, he turns his head to face her, “I know how difficult it is to lose someone who has cared for you. I know Robb misses father as well, but he hadn’t seen him in ten years. If you need someone to talk to, I will always listen.”

 

“Thank you Sansa,” he says with a soft smile as they approach the doors to the council chambers. Two Stark soldiers open the doors for them to reveal Robb, Morgana, Gaius, and Gwaine.

 

“Morgana,” Sansa breaths to his side, quickly breaking free to embrace the taller woman. He smiles when Morgana holds her close, whispering something he cannot hear into her ear. Gwaine is at both their sides, looking down at Sansa with more love then Jon has ever seen, he has one hand on Morgana’s waist and the other is stroking Sansa’s fire kissed curls. They look as if they are a mother and father, welcoming home their precious daughter.

 

After a moment, Morgana has Sansa sit next to her, with Gwaine on her other side while he, Robb, and Gaius sit on the other side.

 

“Have ravens been sent to alert everyone of your victory?” Morgana asks, diving right into the meeting.

 

“I have your friend, Merlin, writing out the letters as we speak, along with a letter to River Bend to call forth those we left there,” Robb says.

 

“What are we going to do with the political prisoners?” Jon asks.

 

“Lady Cersei will be sent home to her brother along with Elizabeth as the contract states. All knights and staff will be given the opportunity to swear loyalty to me or suffer exile. Arthur will be –”

 

“If I may interrupt,” Sansa says, her hands folded on the table before her and her back straight.

 

“Go ahead Sansa,” Robb tells her gently. Jon knows he will grant Sansa the world if she were to ask it of him. He has always had a fondness for his sister, since her birth when he peered over the edge of her cradle, promising to protect her until the end of time.

 

“I ask that we spare Arthur’s life. An act of mercy over him will go far to win over the remaining people that are loyal to House Pendragon. House Pendragon resides over lands to the South. We should keep him here under our watch and should the day come when he fathers a child, they will come here to ward under the new crown and be groomed to be Lord,” Sansa says, startling them all.

 

Jon looks at her curiously. Arthur is the reason her father is dead, why does she ask that he be spared? It makes no sense to him, but he can see already that Robb will grant her request. He knows, however, that the decision is not being made by a King, it’s being made by a heartbroken brother.

 

“Why?” Morgana asks, probably harsher then she’d meant. Sansa doesn’t appear to be thrown by the question.

 

“Arthur was once going to be my husband… and even if it was late, he tried to shield me from more harm the minute he returned from being a prisoner at your camp. He made a show of caring for me in the court and he placed me with Cersei when the invasion began because the Queen is the most protected person in the castle. That should count for something,” Sansa says simply, but Jon catches the delicate phrasing of her words.

 

_“More?”_ he asks.

 

Sansa stiffens under his gaze and he feels his stomach tighten as a growing panic rises within him. Something is wrong. Gwaine is looking at her sadly and even though it is improper, he places his hand over Sansa’s right one, while her left slips down to rest against her stomach. There are tears in her eyes and her breathing grows heavy.

 

Morgana is nearly panicked at Sansa’s side, he can tell, but she’s remaining quiet. Robb, on the other hand, is white with fear, his hands clutching the edge of the table. His eyes are wide and frightened at what has caused his sister to be so distressed.

 

“Uther…” Sansa bites her lip, “I-I carry his child.”

 

Jon is horrified at her words. He knows instantly what Uther did to his cousin and he feels a surge of protectiveness for her. She is his cousin and that man that called himself a _King_ defiled her. She is too young to be carrying a child. Even if she had married Arthur this year as planned, it would have been advised that he not bed her for another year at least to prevent such an early pregnancy. Aside from that, he can’t imagine what must be going through her head, what she must be thinking.

 

Morgana looks equally horrified and Robb looks ready to kill. Tears begin to spill from his sweet cousin’s eyes and before he knows it she’s risen from her seat and run from the room. Gwaine rises with Morgana and they follow her, but Jon turns to Robb.

 

“Is this my fault?” he asks me.

 

“No,” I assure him.

 

“We must destroy it. Moon tea will get ride of it, won’t it?” Robb asks, turning to Gaius that sits beside him.

 

“I offered it to her when I learned of her condition but she refused it, Your Grace,” Gaius replies.

 

“What am I going to do? How can I help her?” he asks Jon, but Jon doesn’t know what to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Jon, in the books and show and I think he'd take care of Sansa well if she let him. They're going to have a touching chapter next chapter. :) 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	32. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa breaks down a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters, we learn a little bit about what's been troubling Sansa and what she's thinking. There is another chapter like this later.

**Chapter 31 – Sansa**

Sansa is like a ghost as she walks down the hall, stepping over pieces of debris. She passes Morgana’s door as well as her brother’s. She keeps walking down the hallway, stopping only when she is in front of Prince Arthur’s door, now occupied by Jon. She knocks once before letting herself in. She immediately spots Jon sitting at the edge of his bed, wearing only a pair of cut off breaches, no shirt. His head is down in his hands, and his silent sobs echo around the still room like a haunt. He must have heard her because he looks up, and it makes her heart hurt to see the tear tracks on his face.

 

“Sansa?” his voice is heavy with sadness and his eyes are wide with confusion and wet with overwhelming sadness.

 

She slips into the room, closing the door behind her. She wonders what she must look like, dressed in a white sleeveless nightshift, with her fire hair free to drape her shoulders, and cast under a cloud of moon light. It reminds her of the one time she snuck out of her room with Arthur, to walk in the gardens. He had called her the ghost of Camelot that night, and they had laughed all night as he whispered sweet words to her. She had thought he was a real prince then, like the songs and the stories she’d remembered her mother telling her in Winterfell. He’d kissed her that night and promised that he would always take care of her. It was the first time he lied to her.

 

“Sansa, what are you doing here?” Jon asks her, rising from the bed.

 

“I thought, that maybe…” she’s unsure of herself all of a sudden, “you could use someone who knows what it’s like.”

 

“Sansa…”

 

“If you’d prefer to be alone, I can go back,” she says quickly, stepping back towards the door. She’s stupid, why would her cousin want her company when she is the reason his parents are dead?

 

“No, Sansa…” Jon stands, tears drying on his face as he steps towards her, his hand out as if to take her arm, “stay.”

 

She looks up at him with watery eyes, a wave of emotion crashing over her. She nods, allowing him to take her arm and take her over to his bed. “I’m so sorry Jon,” she whispers.

 

“Sansa, my parents loved you, even if they never met you. They loved you because you’re family. My parents would have fought through the seven hells to keep you safe, same as your father and mother would have for Elizabeth and I,” he assures her, his voice growing thicker with every word until he is crying.

 

“I’m so sorry Jon,” she sooths, pulling him into her arms so he cries into her neck. She whispers sweet words into his hair.

 

The night passes quietly and there is only a few hours till dawn left. The two cousins are both lying on the bed, facing towards one another while Sansa listens to Jon tell her stories of his parents. She laughs with him when he tells her of when his father caught his half sister Rhaenys kissing a stable boy and she cries with him when he’s overwhelmed after telling her of a time when his mother took him riding through the Godswood.

 

“Can I ask you something Sansa?” Jon asks her after a while. She has since turned onto her back and Jon has moved closer to her.

 

“Anything,” she breaths, smiling up at him. She hasn’t felt so safe in a long time. She’s had to be strong since her father’s death, never allowed any time to mourn.

 

“Why did you really spare Arthur?”

 

She takes a deep breath, knowing this was coming. How can she make him understand? She knows Morgana and Gwaine think she’s crazy for it, but she does have a reason. “Part of it really is because Arthur was good to me once he returned, but you’re right, it is not the only factor that influenced my decision.” She’s encouraged by Jon’s accepting eyes, but she twists her hands nervously anyway. “When Uther called for my father to die, my heart broke. Not long after, I was forced to convince Bran to leave for his own safety. Then when father was killed, I remember feeling very alone. I love the Stark Guard and all the knights that cared deeply for me, but they were not my blood, my family. I was so afraid and I felt abandoned. Now I carry Uther’s baby, and that baby’s father is dead. Gaius offered me moon tea but how could I harm my child, half mine, half my blood, when Uther hurt me for the supposed sins of my own family? Would I not be the same as him? I want this child to have someone from their father’s family. I want this baby to know that there is forgiveness and mercy in this world. I want them to know that despite all the horrible things he’s done, that their brother cared for me in the end. Is it stupid?” she asks, turning her head to look up at her handsome cousin.

 

“No,” he assures her, “you want your child to know their father but you can’t do that so you want the next best thing. You want them to know their brother. It’s not a bad thing Sansa.”

 

“Why do people hurt me?” she asks, tears clouding her eyes as she looks up at him.

 

“Uther did a terrible thing—” Jon starts, but she cuts him off.

 

“It started before that,” she says quietly. When Jon turns his head a bit to the side in confusion, she continues, “I begged my mother to let me stay with her. I screamed all through the night before father took us South to Camelot. Robb held me as I clawed at his arms and pleaded with him to convince mother to let me stay. On the way here, while I cried for my father, he spent his time caring for Bran or telling me that I needed to be a girl good for the King. He dropped me with my governess who spent the weeks it took to get to Camelot counseling me in how I should greet the King. When I got here I did everything I could to make the Queen like me. I did everything my governess told me and the Queen cast me aside like I was nothing. I had one job, to make the royal family love me and no matter what I did I couldn’t make Cersei like me. Then Arthur always kept me at arms length no matter how much I tried to get him to love me. I loved my father and I love Bran, but I wanted a woman to love me and care for me and Morgana provided that. I cried for hours after I sent Bran away and I broke when he made me watch my father’s execution, but then Merlin told me that Morgana was gone. I was so angry that she left me here, when she _knew_ what Uther was like. The knights couldn’t protect me and my father’s men had to tread lightly. Then the letter came, saying that Robb was holding Morgana hostage and I think maybe Uther broke. He came into my room and he knocked Merlin away and he threw me onto my own bed,” she whispers, sobs sticking in her throat and tears streaming down her face. Jon moves up so he’s higher into the pillows, before pulling her to his chest. “I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. The Stark Guard came to protect me but Uther came prepared with knights. I had to watch while the knights tore through my father’s men. They killed two of my father’s men and imprisoned the rest. They died for me and no one… cares.”

 

“You care,” Jon reminds her softly, before going quiet for a moment, “Are you saying the letter prompted Uther to… _hurt_ you?” Jon asks her and she swears she can hear anger in his voice.

 

“I think so, yes,” she whispers, curling into his chest.

 

“I’m so sorry Sansa.”

 

“Why did Morgana leave me? Why didn’t she stay? Why didn’t she protect me?”

 

“I don’t know,” he whispers into her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sansa, she's more angry then people like to think.


	33. Catelyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn and Sansa's reunion is not how she expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I hate Catelyn in both book and show so that will be shown here.

 

   

**Elizabeth _Corrine                                     Morgana                                        Arthur_**

 

**Chapter 32 – Catelyn**

Catelyn Stark has never been a typical noblewoman. Her body is made of winter’s ice and Northern steel, but even she must admit that such a long journey has taken a toll on her. She lets out a sigh of relief when she spots the castle. She’s excited to see her children, Robb was just a boy sent off to war and now he will be a man she is sure and she hasn’t seen Sansa in over ten years. Sansa will be happy to see her she’s sure, unlike Bran, who didn’t care to see her at all.

 

She glances over to her left where Bran is seated on a horse beside the one of Corrine’s handmaiden. She had expected Bran to want to be with her, but instead he’s latched onto Eryan as if she doesn’t exist at all.

 

“Aunt Catelyn,” Corrine calls to her happily, leading her horse alongside hers.

 

“Yes Corrine?” Catelyn asks her niece.

 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” her niece asks, looking up at the large castle.

 

“It is,” Catelyn agrees, urging her horse forward, through the gates. She stares up at the dark clouds looming overhead. It is as if the gods themselves were exemplifying their discontent.

 

Once they arrive in the courtyard, she immediately spots Robb and Morgana and a beautiful girl with long fire kissed hair. They stand on the steps, each of their faces twisted into masks of stone. The wind rustles their clothes and their hair, making them appear far more ominous. Catelyn knows immediately something is wrong. Morgana’s eyes are red rimmed and her fists are clenched. Robb is pale and dark circles have formed beneath his eyes. Sansa is far too thin and there is a deadness to her eyes. All put together it frightens the Lady of Winterfell.

 

“Sansa,” Corrine says with a smile as she dismounts her horse and glides over to the new Princess of Camelot, “it is a pleasure to see you again dear cousin.”

 

“Corrine?” Sansa asks with a gentle smile as she accepts the red head’s embrace.

 

Corrine continues on with her greetings while Catelyn simply stares at her daughter in a very un-lady-like manor. This is the girl whom she kissed goodbye nearly ten years ago. This is the girl who reached out her arms to her and screamed for her mother as her father rode away with her. This is the girl who was meant to become the future Queen of Camelot. This is her _daughter_.

 

“Sansa!” Bran screams happily, jumping from his horse and running towards her. Sansa smiles widely, breaking into a run as she sweeps down the steps to embrace her younger brother. “Sansa I missed you.”

 

“And I you my little wolf,” she says sweetly, bending over to pepper his face with kisses. Morgana comes up alongside them and quickly scoops Catelyn’s son up into her arms, whispering something she cannot hear into his ear. It makes Catelyn’s heart stop when she realizes that Morgana has become their mother. Sansa is more concerned with her brother and cousin then she is with her own mother.

 

“Sir Elyan! Sir Gwaine!” Bran shouts, breaking into a run when he spots two knights off to the side.

 

“Mother,” Robb greets her, stepping forward to help her from her horse.

 

“Robb,” she says, tears filling her eyes as she looks at her eldest son, “you’ve done so well, your father would be… proud.”

 

Robb’s smile makes his entire face light up and Catelyn feels relieved that at least one of her children still needs her. “Thank you Mother.”

 

“Do I get no greeting dear cousin?” Elizabeth says (though it lacks the mocking tone) from behind her as she swings her leg over to dismount her horse, resembling her mother too much in her un-lady-like manner.

 

“Of course Lizzie,” Robb says, instantly leaving Catelyn to embrace his cousin.

 

“Where is Jon?” she asks.

 

“Jon is in his chambers, Gwen can show you,” Robb tells her leading her over to a pretty maidservant who disappears into the castle with her.

 

“Sansa,” Catelyn finally says, gaining her daughter’s attention. Sansa turns her head to look at her and for Catelyn it’s like looking into a mirror from seventeen years ago.

 

“Mother?” Sansa asks.

 

“Sansa,” Catelyn whispers, rushing forward to embrace her daughter. Sansa stiffens under her touch for a moment before relaxing into the embrace.

 

“It’s been a long time,” Sansa sighs and Catelyn feels her heart break at the words. Her daughter doesn’t know her anymore. She’d expected Sansa to fall into her arms and cry, but her daughter isn’t a child anymore.

 

“Sansa,” Catelyn whispers as Sansa pulls from her.

 

“There is much to be done, a coronation to plan and then a wedding that will happen within the year,” Sansa says, looking away from Catelyn. “Corrine,” Sansa grabs her cousin’s arms, “come help me.”

 

“Sansa,” Catelyn begs, stepping towards her daughter, but she is cut off by Sansa’s icy glare.

 

“You left me,” Sansa whispers, disappearing up the stairs with her cousin, Morgana, and brother in toe.

 

“Sansa,” Catelyn says again, but her daughter is gone.

 

“Mother,” Robb says quietly, taking Catelyn’s arm, “we have much to talk about.”

 

“Of course,” she tells her son, pushing away all thoughts of her daughter. “What news have you?”

 

“Sansa is with child.”

 

Catelyn’s heart stops at her son’s words. Her daughter? Her sweet baby whom she loved and cared for, the little girl that Ned wrote her loved to dance, sing, and pick flowers, is going to have a child? What monster did that to her? What torture was her child put through?

 

“Destroy it, now,” Catelyn says angrily. The demon inside her daughter is going to tear her apart. It will be a forever reminder of what’s been done to her. Her daughter isn’t strong enough for it.

 

“Sansa doesn’t want to. The child is Uther’s and that presents an even bigger problem.”

 

If Catelyn wasn’t angry before, she’s ready to scream now. Uther was a friend, someone she trusted enough to allow Sansa to marry into his family. Not only did he take her husband’s head but he went and _forced_ himself on her daughter?

 

“Sansa doesn’t know what it’ll be like to have a child from such a tragedy. The child is also a Pendragon and that is dangerous. Once Arthur is dead this child will be the last of the line and any loyalist will try and make him King or in the event of a girl they will make her mother of Kings. Either way that demon inside my daughter needs to be taken care of,” Catelyn tells her son sternly. He needs to keep his feelings for his sister out of his decisions as King.

 

“Mother,” Robb tells her sternly, turning her so she’s facing him, “If we go anywhere near that baby, Sansa will die of grief. She cares for it, like a mother should. I support her, what she wants and what she needs. Do I think she should keep this child? No. Am I willing to cast my sister’s sanity aside? No. It is also by her plea that I have… decided to allow Arthur his life. If rebellion starts up, we’ll deal with it then.”

 

How can her son be so stupid? Does he not understand that Sansa’s child isn’t a child at all? It’s a liability. It _needs_ to be destroyed. And to let Arthur live is the stupidest decision he’s ever made. That stupid little boy lied to his father and caused her husband’s death and he just wants to let him _live_? He can’t do that. She won’t let him. If she has to smother the boy herself, he will not live.

 

“Arthur is the son of the former King, you will _never_ be considered a proper King as long as that boy lives.”

 

“My decision is final mother.”

 

“Yes Your Grace,” she replies bitterly, deciding to seek out the Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone venture a guess as to what Catelyn is planning?


	34. Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A traitor in Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to avoid any confusion, when I meant Queen last chapter I meant Morgana, not Cersei.
> 
> This chapter is also dedicated to my loyal reader/commenter Tommyginger! *clap clap*

**Chapter 33 – Merlin**

 

Merlin can’t tear his eyes away from the sword in the flames of the pyre, not even to look at Cersei or Arthur, shackled off to his left. Sansa is across from him, but he can’t seem to look at her. He doesn’t understand why she insisted on a funeral, a sign of respect to the man that hurt her so terribly.

 

When the funeral is over and Sirs Gwaine and Elyan escort Cersei and Arthur back to their cells, Sansa approaches him. Her face is emotionless, betraying nothing.

 

“Will you accompany me to the Great Hall to oversee the last minute details of the coronation?” she asks, her voice soft, but stiffer than usual.

 

“Of course My Lady,” he replies, walking alongside her as they make their way towards the Throne Room.

 

“Just because I am now a Princess does not mean I want you to stop calling me Sansa, Merlin,” she tells him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

 

“Of course, Sansa,” he replies, smiling despite himself. He doesn’t understand her. Sansa Stark is such an anomaly to him. Arthur’s lie got her father killed, and she pleads that he be allowed to live. Uther passed the sentence to kill her father, made her watch, raped her, and she insists on giving him a proper funeral even though he deserves no such respect. What is it that goes through her head?

 

“Why did you have a funeral for Uther?” Merlin asks as he walks next to Sansa, the red haired Princess looking over the last minute details of Robb and Morgana’s coronation that will happen later in the afternoon. 

 

“Because Uther was a King and despite all his faults, he is still the father of my child and he deserved a proper burial.” Sansa is cool and collected, but Merlin can tell there is something more to her insistence that Uther have a funeral.

 

“But the same day as His and Her Grace’s coronation?” he asks her, her face doesn’t flicker, still a mask of stone.

 

“You can call him Robb,” is all she says, her eyes narrowing in on a builder. She flashes Merlin her sweetest smile before gathering her skirts in her hands and making her way towards the builder.

 

He watches her with fascination, as she gently touches the builder’s shoulder. The man is tall and strong, with gray hair and an old face. When he turns to look at her, he is clearly expecting her to yell the way Cersei or Uther did whenever something wasn’t up to their standard.

 

“Your highness,” the builder stutters, attempting to rise to give her a proper bow.

 

All Sansa does is smile, beaming down at him like they’re old friends. The sun streams in behind her, illuminating her like some Mother’s angel. It takes him a moment to realize that she didn’t run off to the builder because he was making a mistake, but because he was continuing to work even though he hurt his hand. The rest of the builders and decorators are watching her curiously, it’s not often they see such kindness from a noble.

 

“What happened?” she asks the builder, taking his rough and sun kissed hand between her soft and pale ones. Merlin, along with everyone else in the hall, pause to watch in disbelief as she pulls a silk, laced handkerchief from the folds of her skirt and wraps it around the man’s hand.

 

“It was nothing milady,” the man mumbles, bowing his head to avoid her eye.

 

“Tell me,” she whispers, moving her head down so he cannot avoid looking at her.

 

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Gwaine asks, coming up behind Merlin.

 

Merlin nods, “She’d have made a wonderful Queen.”

 

“She might still be,” Gwaine says, his tone serious.

 

“What do you mean?” Merlin asks, tearing his eyes away from the beautiful Princess.

 

“You know how it was even before His Grace conquered Camelot. Sansa was always kind and gentle, but strong. The people adored her more then their own King, they went into battle for her, turning on everything they’ve ever known because they believe in her and she is only a girl of thirteen. They never loved Cersei like they love her.” Gwaine is smiling, looking out at Sansa, smiling beautiful at the builder with the people around her watching her in awe. “It isn’t the crown that makes a Queen, but the love of the people.”

 

“Morgana won’t like that,” Merlin tells his friend. They both love Morgana as she was always allied with them to protect Sansa, but she has always been power hungry. Morgana loves Sansa, that Merlin is sure of, but he knows she took to caring for Sansa (at least partially) because Sansa was meant to be Queen and being a caregiver of a Queen is a powerful position to be in. Now that Morgana is Queen, he fears what might happen if she thinks Sansa is getting in the way, especially now that Sansa holds a child in her belly that is half Stark and half Pendragon.

 

His thoughts are interrupted when the bells begin to ring. Sansa looks up from the builder, whispering something quickly to him before going over to Merlin.

 

“What’s happened?” she asks he and Gwaine.

 

“I don’t—” Gwaine starts, but is cut off when Sir Elyan comes running in.

 

“Princess, it is Prince Arthur…” Elyan barely finishes getting the words out before Sansa’s gathered her skirts and taken off into a full sprint towards the dungeons. Merlin and Gwaine exchange glances before following her, surprised by the speed of her steps.

 

No one tries to stop her as she pushes her way passed knights and servants. Robb is standing outside the cell with Morgana, Jon, and his mother. The man turns when he hears the commotion Sansa is making.

 

“Sansa, no!” he starts, but he’s too late. Sansa stops short ahead of Gwaine and Merlin, and gasps loudly.

 

“No!” Sansa screams as Merlin and Gwaine finally makes it to her side. Merlin peers passed her shoulder to see Arthur laying on the ground, his insides torn from him and his head separated from his body. Merlin may hold no love for his former prince, but the very sight of Arthur so mutilated makes him sick.

 

To his side, Sansa is screaming, tears pouring from her eyes as Gwaine wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest. Though her screams aren’t as loud and she’s quieting already, it reminds Merlin of when her father died. There is a desperation to her as she hides away into Gwaine’s arms. The knight soothes her quietly, rocking her slightly as he strokes her hair and whispers sweet nothings into her ear.

 

“Who did this?” Robb asks Jory, who looks just as perplexed as Robb.

 

When Gwaine signals Lord Beric to follow him out as he leads Sansa away from the gory mess, Merlin catches a small smile shared between Morgana and her soon to be good mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Arthur is dead and it very well may be that Morgana and Catelyn both killed him. Next chapter is a Jon chapter which I love because that means a sweet Jon/Sansa moment. Coming up after Jon will be a chapter from Cersei and then what I call the longest Epilogue ever which takes place after a five year gap. 
> 
> Coming up in the next few chapters:
> 
> Potential hatred for Lady Catelyn  
> Potential hatred for Morgana  
> Cheers for Lady Elizabeth  
> Tears for Sansa (x2)  
> and   
> Awe moments for Gwaine/Sansa/Sadness


	35. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon makes Sansa a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During Sansa's rambling, she is rambling so it's not meant to string together.
> 
> Also to anyone that wants a shot of Gwaine/Sansa, I wrote a stand alone oneshot called A Princess's Knight.

**Chapter 34 – Jon**

 

“Sansa?” Jon asks, opening the door to his cousin’s chambers. Corrine is behind him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. He spots his only female cousin standing in the corner of her room, dressed in a beautiful silver gown with white ties in the back. Resting lightly on her head is a silver circlet, signifying her status as a princess. She’s gazing in a looking glass, scrutinizing her image in the mirror. Her eyes are still red from her earlier crying. He wishes he could have convinced Robb to post pone the coronation even a day, Sansa doesn’t need this today, but he understands Robb’s point, that Arthur holds no value other then a favor to Sansa and is therefore no reason to stop a coronation.

 

“You look, lovely,” Corrine whispers sweetly, going towards their mutual cousin with a sad smile on her face. He knows she’s as aware of Sansa’s despair as he is.

 

“Thank you Corrine,” Sansa says dutifully, but Jon doesn’t miss the flicker of sadness in Sansa’s voice.

 

“Corrine, would you mind checking in on Robb?” he asks, stepping towards his cousin’s cousin.

 

“Of course, if you’ll excuse me cousin,” Corrine says quickly, sweeping forward to kiss Sansa’s cheek before disappearing out the door.

 

“What is it Sansa?” he asks, taking his Princess’s hand.

 

“I…” Sansa trails off, turning to face him. There are tears in her eyes and he wants to protect her, but he doesn’t know what’s troubling her. She’s been through so much and remained so strong that it can be anything. “I don’t want to go.”

 

“Why?” he asks, knowing this is more then just Arthur’s death.

 

“It’s just, they’ve all left me. I can moved passed Arthur’s lie because even though his stupidity killed my father, he still fought for me in the end. He’s dead, someone killed him and they _had_ to have known I asked Robb to spare him. This wasn’t an attack on the crown or on Robb, it’s against _me_. Whoever they are took him away from me.” Sansa has tears in her eyes and there is such sadness in her voice. She is only thirteen; she shouldn’t have suffered so much yet. “My mother gave me away, never once coming to visit me. Robb wrote me every week and he loved me and cared for me and sent me beautiful gifts but he never came to visit either… and they both dismissed Bran completely. Morgana left me, she just left me here. She could have done so much to protect me. She left me here to rot while she ran away. Arthur may have betrayed me and left me but he came _back_ , for _me_.” Tears are streaming down his cousin’s face and he wants to pull her close and assure her that he’ll never let anything ever harm her again, but it isn’t what she needs. She needs to get her feelings out. “Now Morgana’s going to marry Robb and today she is going to become Queen. I am the one that assured Robb’s victory. I spent the last ten years of my life gaining loyalty. I loved those people, I _love_ those people and she gets to be their Queen!”

 

It’s the first time Jon thinks he’s seen Sansa act her age. If it weren’t so dire he’d be laughing. “Sansa, your parents did what was necessary—”

 

“They sold me like cattle!” Sansa screams, tears pouring from her eyes. “Mother wanted Robb to be able to choose his bride so that he may have as good a marriage as her and my father. It is because I am a _girl_ that they brought me to be the future Queen. I barely had a chance to know my mother and brother before I was whisked away. So I adapted, I made sure to get to know the servants and knights and common folk because I wanted them to come to me with their ails. I wanted to be a _great_ Queen, better then Cersei ever was. I made them love me! Then my father was killed and I adapted, turning from the beloved Princess of Prince Arthur to the hostage of the crown. I doubled my efforts, swayed those who had reason to doubt for Uther to either not fight or fight for Robb. I brokered new alliances and strengthened old ones. I even…” she breaks off, sobs visibly rippling through her body. Jon has seen her weak but he hasn’t seen her broken before. He sees the panic rising within her and it hurts him that he can’t do anything to help her or lessen her pain, “I even picked out my dress carefully when I knew they were leading me to watch my father’s murder. I picked a dress light in color because I wanted the Lords to doubt the King. I wanted them to see the blood on my gown, of my own father. I wanted them to truly see what Uther did to me. Now so many people are dead, your parents, Uncle Edmure, and I didn’t know them. They died for me and all I’d ever known about them were their names. What of my side? So many knights swore their swords to me and they’re dead. The boy I sent to protect Cersei, the man I sent with him. Sirs Percival and Leon are dead because they turned on their brothers. I will never forgive Uther for what he did to me, but I carry his child and that _means_ something to me. I did not want to tear my child from their family like I was torn from mine and someone took that away from me. Have I not suffered enough?” She falls to the ground, her skirts floating out around her to encompass her. “I’ve adapted my whole life; I don’t know how to be anything other then a future Queen anymore.” The tears no longer fall from her eyes but there is a brokenness to them that tears at his heart.

 

“Do you think Morgana will be an ill Queen?” Jon asks, not knowing what to say as he sits beside her on the floor.

 

“Morgana loves me and I her, but she is rash in thought and quick to kill those she deems in the way. If she were to ever turn on Robb, I fear what would happen to Camelot. I fear it is she that killed Arthur. I fear she will kill my child once they are born.”

 

“Why?” he asks, stunned that Sansa would accuse Morgana of such a crime, but it makes more sense then he'd like to ponder of the new Queen of Camelot. If Morgana begins to view Sansa or her child as a threat, what is there to keep her from poisoning his beloved cousin?

 

“Because Arthur had more power then she wanted to deal with. He and my child have claims to the throne. Robb spoke to me soon after mother and he spoke, said maybe it would be wise to make my son or daughter the heir for Camelot. A child of both Pendragon and Stark blood, would placate any Pendragon loyalists and stop any rebellion before it happened. That would take her children out of the line of succession or at least put them behind mine. She has been encourage me along with my mother to get rid of it. They’ve both called it a demon. I can’t lose this baby Jon, I can’t!” 

 

He won't let it happen. He won't let anyone touch Sansa or her baby. He can't protect her in Camelot but on his own turf, with his own soldiers, he can keep her safe. Convincing Robb will be easy, no one can argue with Sansa needing to get away from Camelot. She'll love Harrenhal. It's large and beautiful and she can run around with her child. She'll be under his half sister's careful watch and Sansa will be able to blossom into womanhood, maybe even reclaim her childhood. She'll be enchanted by Aegon, who loves to dance and sing and read poetry and play piano. The servants will love her, spoiling her with their kindness. 

 

“Shhh,” Jon sooths gently, leaning over to kiss his cousin’s cheek, “Let us think on it another day, Sansa, we must go and celebrate the coronation, but I promise you, tomorrow we will ride for Harrenhal and you can rest and have your child there. We can bring Sir Gwaine with us and Jory and Lord Beric. We can keep both you and your son or daughter safe… and Aegon and Rhaenys will love to dote on you.” Jon rises, smiling down at his cousin to offer her his hand. He’s rewarded by a smile as he pulls Sansa to her feet. “I’ll keep you safe Sansa, always,” he whispers, brushing a stray hair away from her face. She's been a prisoner and hostage too long, it's time someone else stepped forward to protect her.

 

They are interrupted by a knock on the door. Before Sansa can even call out to answer, Sir Gwaine enters the room.

 

“My Princess, I’ve replaced Sir Kay as your guard for the day. It is time we go to the coronation.”

 

“Of course, one moment Sir Gwaine,” she replies, a spark of life returning to her lackluster eyes. It makes Jon smile as he reaches up to brush the remaining tears from her eyes. It makes Sansa blush and Jon laughs.

 

“I’ll go and take my place in the audience. I’ll see you soon Sansa,” Jon tells her, kissing her forehead before departing.

 

He makes his way quickly to the Great Hall, sitting down in the front next to Lady Corrine. He makes it just in time for a harold to sing across the room.

 

“All rise for the royal family!”

 

There is a shuffle of skirts and swords as the people rise.

 

“Princess Sansa Stark, of House Stark, of Winterfell, of the North!”

 

“May she be happy and blessed by the gods,” the people say.

 

Sansa enters the room, gliding down the center aisle. She has the sweetest of smiles on her face and Jon begins to wonder (as he knows this one is fake) how many of them are real. He watches with a smile as she goes off to the side.

 

“Prince Brandon Stark, of House Stark, of Winterfell, of the North!”

 

“May he be happy and blessed by the gods.”

 

Bran isn’t as skilled as his sister at faking a smile. He is solemn as he walks towards his sister, going off to stand at the opposite side of the two thrones.

 

Jon tunes out the rest of the coronation, yelling when necessary and clapping as needed. He watches as the Lords yell out the name of the King and the high priests crown both the King and the Queen. Robb looks stronger then he has in years and Morgana is stunning, but he cannot help but notice that even though it is Morgana with the crown, that Sansa looks far more regal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Jon's going to take her away and Sansa's unravelling. Any thoughts?


	36. Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth taunts Cersei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a special place in my heart for Elizabeth, despite all her faults she loves her family.

**Chapter 35 – Cersei**

Cersei jumps slightly when the door at the end of the hallway opens. She has been shut down in the dungeons for days and she’s ready to be free of it. Today she’s to ride home, to Casterly Rock to live with Jaime and his new bride, a Stark bitch from what she’s told.

 

She’s surprised when a woman appears before her cell, dressed in black with a veil covering most her hair, but Cersei still knows who she is instantly. The girl has the brown locks and eyes of Lyanna Stark, but the coloring and mannerism of Rhaegar Targaryen. Cersei thinks maybe she’s met the girl before, but she can’t remember. The girl’s pretty, resembling her mother at that age, but she’s not pretty enough, not for Jaime.

 

A Targaryen knight opens the cell door before the girl commands him to leave. He protests for a second before scurrying off under her stern expression.

 

“How the mighty have fallen,” the girl says with a dark chuckle. Cersei says nothing, content to glare at her future good sister. “Cat got your tongue?” the girl taunts, a smirk gracing her cruel mouth. “Your family sigil is a lion is it not? A lion and a wolf, who will win, who will win.”

 

“Do you know who I am?” the girl asks, but again, Cersei says nothing. She will not give this little bitch the satisfaction. “I am Lady Elizabeth Targaryen, and I am to be your good sister it seems.”

 

Cersei continues her silence.

 

“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Elizabeth warns, her mocking tone gone, “Nothing is more important to me then my family, and you messed with my family. My parents are dead because of you and your stupid little prince. My sweet young cousin is pregnant with a monster’s child because of you. My cousin and brother may be sweet and merciful but I am not. I have the loyalty of a wolf and the fire of a dragon. I am no saint. I will gladly roast you alive, slowly, painfully, until you beg me for death if you so much as step a toe out of line. You are nothing anymore. I will control Jaime and my children, my children will be fire and ice and they will swear themselves to Robb. You will be dead before the year is out. The fact that you are alive is torturing Sansa, I can see it, and I won’t have her hurting if I can help it. You will be dead and just maybe she will sleep in peace again. She pled for Arthur’s life and he is dead.”

 

What? Arthur’s dead? What is this mad girl talking about? No, Sansa pled for his life, Arthur told her.

 

“Oh?” Elizabeth mocks, a cruel amusement clear in her voice, “You didn’t know? After everything you’ve done to prevent it, your little love is still dead. Do you want me to tell you how? Someone came into his cell in the night and ripped his stomach open the way his lie will do to Sansa, and then he was beheaded same as Ned Stark.”

 

“You lying little bitch,” Cersei seethes, anger curling inside her. She can’t be telling the truth, she can’t! Arthur isn’t dead. Sansa wouldn’t have allowed it. The girl is sweet and kind and merciful. She wouldn’t go back on her word. Robb Stark is too like his father and too loving towards his sister, he would never sanction Arthur’s death. Arthur can’t be dead, he isn’t. He isn’t!

 

“We _won_.”

 

Cersei lets out a battle scream as she lunges towards the Targaryen girl, but her shackles cut her off, snagging her wrists painfully.

 

“Don’t make it so easy for me, Cersei. I would have thought you like your pretty little head on your shoulders,” Elizabeth laughs, disappearing into the darkness of the hall. “Get her ready for transport, we leave in two hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth's headed off to marry Jaime Lannister... what is to become of her?
> 
> Next chapter (the beginning of the epilogue) fast forwards five years.


	37. Theon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has her child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance.

**Chapter 36 - Theon**

**5 Years Later**

 

Sansa walks through the courtyard with grace, her back perfectly straight and her hair free to flow in the wind. The silver circlet rests perfectly on her head and Theon thinks it makes her look stronger and fiercer. She is a good Princess, loved and cherished by all, but she never smiles anymore. Her eyes are hard drops of ice, rarely melted by warmth and always laced with sadness. She’s strong, anyone can tell, but there is a brokenness to her.

 

The ring of knights, training in the courtyard stop when they notice her, and turn to look at her. From his spot on the wall, Theon can make out Jon and Elyan among them. Jon instantly breaks away from the pack, going towards Sansa. Theon smiles when Jon places a hand on Sansa’s arm, bending his head towards her. It makes Theon think of the event that made Sansa so miserable.

 

_Four Years Ago – Harrenhal_

Theon smiles when he finally finds Princess Sansa and Lord Jon, standing on the bridge between the Widow’s Tower and Kingspyre Tower. Sansa is smiling as she stands at the edge of the bridge, looking down at the drop bellow and the intricate architecture of the large castle. Jon is laughing slightly to her side, their hands clasped tightly. It warms Theon’s heart to see his best friend’s treasured sister so happy.

 

“My Princess, my Lord,” Theon calls out as he heads towards them.

 

“Theon!” Sansa greets him as she turns to look at him, glowing with happiness as she places a hand on her severely pregnant belly.

 

“Rhaenys has been looking for you Princess,” Theon informs her, “and Ravens have come from Camelot.” Theon holds up his hand, full with envelops. “Corrine has sent one to each of you,” Theon says, handing them each their respective letters. “One from Robb to Sansa, one from Bran to Sansa, and one from Morgana to Sansa.”

 

“Thank you Theon,” Sansa says sweetly, taking the letters from him. As her hands clasp around the envelops, he feels her stiffen suddenly.

 

“Sansa? Sansa are you alright?” Jon asks, concern entering his eyes. Sansa opens her eyes wide and her mouth drops open. She lets out a cry of pain, her hand clutching her stomach.

 

“Jon!” she gasps, tears entering her eyes as she stares up at her dear cousin.

 

Theon’s own eyes grow wide when he notices the puddle of red at Sansa’s feet. “Jon!” he yells, grasping Sansa’s hand as she crumples, “get the physician, now!” Jon nods, sweeping down to kiss Sansa’s forehead before he breaks into a run. Two Targaryen guards run out to Theon, dropping to their knees beside Sansa.

 

“Everything will be alright My Lady,” one of them says soothingly as he gently lifts Sansa from the ground.

 

_Present – Camelot_

“Theon!” a voice calls from behind him. Theon half turns to see Robb walking towards him. Robb has grown much in the past five years. He’s taller and his jaw is stronger. Color has returned to his face and the dark circles beneath his eyes are gone. He’s no longer the fumbling, arrogant, and reckless boy he was in his youth. His time as King of Camelot has taught him patience and strategy. He is not a great King by any means, but with Corrine, Jon, and Sansa counseling his every move, he grows better with each passing day.

 

“Robb,” Theon greets in return, bowing his head, for Robb is still his King.

 

“I haven’t seen you in a few days, has that wife of yours been hiding you away?” Robb jests, causing Theon to grin cockily. His new bride, Eryan, has been keeping him busy indeed.

 

“Something like that,” Theon replies with a laugh as he turns to look at Sansa again.

 

_Four Years Ago – Harrenhal_

Sansa’s screams ring through the castle, echoing through the halls and tearing at the hearts of all who wait for the child of their Princess. Those who are lucky are waiting outside the doors of the birthing chamber. Theon is not so lucky. As a friend of the King, he stands in the chamber with Sansa, unsure what to do or say as Sansa screams like the devil himself tears at her insides. Jon and Gwaine are both draped on either side of her by her head, holding her hands and whispering words of encouragement into her ear. Lady Rhaenys sits at the side of both her brother and Sansa, farther down near Sansa’s stomach.

 

“You’re doing so well sweet girl,” Jon tells her, kissing her sweaty forehead.

 

“You’re strong Sansa, you can do this,” Gwaine tells her, running a wet rag over her face.

 

“One more push My Lady!” the physician says.

 

“It’s a boy!” the physician’s assistant yells happily as he takes the baby from the physician.

 

Sansa laughs despite herself, but the happiness is short lived when her eyes roll into the back of her head.

 

_Present –Camelot_

 

Robb’s eyes grow sad when he peers passed Theon to Sansa and Jon. Theon recognizes the familiar hurt in his friend’s eyes. It hurts Robb to see Jon share such an unbreakable bond with the sister he started a war for. Robb will never be so calloused as to try and tear them apart, but Theon knows Robb wants desperately to be the one his sister turns to for comfort.

 

“It’s been four years and I still have yet to see my sister smile away from Jon or the twins,” Robb says, approaching the edge of the wall. His gray Stark cloak ruffles in the wind and the sun gleams off his bronze and iron crown. “Do you think perhaps, I should arrange a marriage for her? To someone strong and gentle that will care for her?”

 

“Robb,” Theon sighs, for it isn’t the first time Robb’s posed this question, “Sansa does not need a husband to make her happy. Our Princess is healing from an unbelievable hurt and a husband won’t help her. Besides, Sansa loves Sir Gwaine and he loves her, everyone knows it but them. She needs him far more then she needs anyone else. She’s been happier lately, not smiling but not looking completely miserable. The twins are helping her.”

 

“I know, you’re right, as always,” Robb says with a nod.

 

“Maybe if you invited her for a ride? The few times I came to Camelot to assist your father, the two of us went riding. There is a clearing a mile into the forest, with a waterfall and many water-lilies. She loved it.”

 

“Swimming?” Robb asks.

 

_Four Years Ago – Harrenhal_

“Where is my son?” a voice asks from the bed. Theon immediately looks up. Sansa is sitting up in her bed, looking more ghost then human. There is no color in her face, her lips are chapped, and her head is soaked in sweat, but her eyes are strong.

 

“You’re awake,” he says, hoping to delay the inevitable. He doesn’t want to be the one to tell her. He doesn’t want to do that to her.

 

“Where is my son?” she repeats. Her eyes are narrowing and she’s rising from her bed.

 

“Sansa, you need to stay in bed,” he tries to tell her but her glare is enough to send him tumbling backward.

 

“Where is my _son?”_ she screams angrily, but Theon knows Sansa well enough to see the fear in her eyes.

 

“Sansa,” he whispers, wishing Jon, Rhaenys, Aegon, Beric, or Gwaine, someone she knows better was here instead.

 

“Where is my son Theon?” she asks him, tears in her eyes. He knows she already knows the truth.

 

“He stopped breathing soon after his birth Sansa,” he tells her gently, tears’ entering his own eyes while her mouth opens and her breath accelerates. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Bring him to me,” she whispers, tears clouding her eyes. Theon watches sadly as she squeezes her eyes shut while the tears slip down her pale cheeks.

 

“Okay, I’ll get him,” he promises, leaning forward to kiss her forehead before getting up to leave. He leaves her chamber, barely making it outside the door before he grabs the wall, sobs racking his body. Sansa is not his sister or his cousin or even really his friend, but he does care for her as her brother’s friend. She’s suffered too much. She deserves to be happy. He fears the only thing that kept her going was the thought of being a mother. Now that her child’s been taken from her he fears she’ll shut down.

 

After a minute he takes a deep breath and makes his way to the next chamber, which was to be the nursery, where Lady Rhaenys is sitting in a rocker, holding the small baby boy who is wrapped in a Stark blanket. Gwaine is sitting next to her, gently running his hand over the red tuff of hair on the boy’s head. They look up when he enters.

 

“Theon,” Gwaine acknowledges.

 

“Where is Jon?” Theon asks, immediately noting Sansa’s treasured companion’s absence.

 

“He went with Aegon to prepare for Aegon’s ride to Camelot. They thought it would be better if Robb hears that his heir is dead by a person rather then a letter. What’s wrong?” Rhaenys asks, handing the baby over to Gwaine. It warms Theon’s heart the way Gwaine looks at the child, the way a true father who has just lost his son would. While what happened is terrible, more horrible then anything else he can imagine for Sansa, it gives him hope that Gwaine can look at her child that way. He’s as devastated as she is and that shows his love for her. Neither has admitted it, but he’s seen it in their eyes. He thinks maybe if Sansa can get through this, that it will be only with Gwaine at her side.

 

“Sansa is awake,” he says with a deep sigh, “she wants to see her son.”

 

“Is that wise?” Rhaenys asks, looking from Theon to Gwaine to the motionless boy in the knight’s arms.

 

“Sansa needs this,” Gwaine says, his lips stretched into a tight line.

 

Gwaine exists the room, Theon trailing behind him. Gwaine enters Sansa’s chamber and Theon hears a cry. He goes to the door, peering in on Gwaine and his princess. He knows he should leave them alone, but he can’t help himself. He watches as Gwaine walks towards her. There are tears spilling down Sansa’s porcelain face and her arms are extended for her child.

 

She retracts her arms when Gwaine sits at her bedside. “Sansa,” Gwaine whispers sadly to her, tears escaping the corners of his eyes, “meet your son.”

 

“Oh,” Sansa gasps, her arms shaking as Gwaine gently lays her child into her arms. The look Sansa gives her son as she cradles him close to her breast, breaks Theon’s heart. Her gaze holds love and agony. A baby born still is common, but that knowledge won’t make Sansa or anyone else feel better.

 

Gwaine’s eyes are dark and full of sorrow, with tears creeping out the corner. He sits at Sansa’s side, higher up on the pillow with his arm draped behind Sansa’s back. As the flood gates open and Sansa’s body begins to shake with sobs, she turns into Gwaine’s side, burying her face into his chest. The broken girl sobs in his arms while the black haired knight’s arms hold her close, whispering words of comfort while his own tears fall into her hair. It doesn’t matter that Sansa’s son is not Gwaine’s by blood, but Theon knows the knight loved him anyway.

 

Sansa is still too young, too broken and bleeding for Gwaine to realize he’s in love with the Princess, but Theon knows, Theon knows.

 

As he leaves, to allow Sansa to grieve and Gwaine to comfort, Theon knows that while Sansa’s broken, it will be Gwaine that keeps her from going insane. They are two halves of a whole, two sides of the same coin, and soul mates. Theon hasn’t been sure about many thing, but of that he is certain.


	38. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon remembers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this one... doesn't seem right.

**Chapter 38 – Jon**

Jon winces to himself as his squire helps him remove his armor. He’s a good fighter, but the knights were brutal today. He just wants to soak in a bath and then make love to his wife and play with his children. He doesn’t have the time though. Sansa asked him to look into the deaths of a few local rangers and he agreed.

 

Sansa’s grown fierce in the years since her son’s death. She grows more ruthless with her enemies and she’s distanced herself from all those that care about her. She still has the loving heart of the girl she once was, but there is a coldness that’s been creeping in for five years. Jon thinks if it weren’t for Gwaine’s influence and the twins, that Sansa might have allowed her grief to consume her years ago. Still he worries over her, the common folk call her the Princess of Despair, Queen of the Damned, and Mother of Dead Kings. It makes him sick to think about it.

 

_Four Years Ago – Harrenhal_

After Sansa was patched up and the physician assured Jon that she’d be alright, the physician went off to pick up the cooing baby boy. “My Lord, meet your second cousin, heir to Camelot’s Throne,” the physician says with a smile as he carefully places the small infant into Jon’s arms.

 

“He’s beautiful,” Rhaenys whispers, squeezing him from his side.

 

“Prince Eddard Pendragon, crowned Prince of Camelot,” Jon says affectionately, smiling down at the boy who already has the features of a Tully. It’s so serene, so perfect that nothing can spoil the moment.

 

“Eddard?” Aegon asks, entering the chamber with a large smile as he strides towards Jon and the baby.

 

“Sansa insisted if it were a boy to name him Eddard. Lyanna for a girl and Eddard for a boy she said.” Jon smiles affectionately at the baby that holds Sansa’s truest affection. He’s smaller then Jon imagined he’d be, but he hasn’t held a baby since Elizabeth was born and he was just a babe himself. He’s never felt so alive, so hopeful as he does now holding Sansa’s newborn son. The boy has the red hair of his mother and the hazel eyes of the Pendragon family. He’s wrapped tightly in the blanket Rhaenys has spent the last four months carefully stitching. On one side of the blanket there is a direwolf on a backdrop of Stark gray with the words _Winter is Coming_ stitched at the edge. On the other side is a golden dragon on a backdrop of red.

 

Jon’s heart warms just looking at the child. He can’t wait to stand by Sansa’s side, watching the prince grow up, running through the Godswood with Rhaenys and learning to play piano with Aegon. Jon’ll teach him to fight, quick and with grace. He’ll teach him to grow strong. When he is older, Eddard will play with his half brothers and sisters, but he will have grown with a shared father and never know the difference. The boy will be more Stark then Pendragon, under Sansa’s careful guidance and Gwaine’s strong morals.

 

Jon’s mind and body freeze when he hears a choking sound. Eddard is starting to squirm in his arms as his little face begins to turn a light shade of blue.

 

“What’s happening?” he demands.

 

_Present – Camelot_

“Father!” a voice screeches, barely giving Jon enough time to react before his arms are full of a red haired toddler. He laughs to himself, quickly tossing his son up into the air. His laughter rings in his ears, twisting in his aching heart like a double edged sword. He loves his twin children more than anything in the entire world, but every laugh and every smile reminds him of what Sansa’s lost.

 

“Edmure, have you run off from your mother?” he asks his treasured boy.

 

“No father, I was with Aunt Sansa in the Memory Garden,” his son giggles, squirming from his arms. Jon furrows his eyebrows, following his only boy.

 

_Four Years Ago – Harrenhal_

“Damn it!” Jon screams as he swipes his arms across the table, sending everything tumbling to the floor.

 

How could this happen? How could any of this happen? Has Sansa not suffered enough? The death of her son is going to crush her, destroy her more than anything else ever could. He promised her he’d protect her and he failed. He failed her and her son is dead.

 

“Calm yourself brother, that won’t help,” Aegon scolds him. His brother is the calmest one in the room, looking every bit the Lord Targaryen of Harrenhal he is. His long blond hair is pulled back into a low ponytail and he is dressed in his armor and Targaryen cloak of black with the three headed crimson dragon. His violet Targaryen eyes are narrowed and fierce, focused on the task at hand.

 

“I spoke with Sansa’s handmaiden; she says she smelled moon tea in Sansa’s morning tea when she began cleaning the pot not long ago. I spoke with the physician; he says it can make a mother go through a difficult birth before making the child spontaneously stop breathing,” Jory says angrily, his knuckles white as he clutches the edge of Aegon’s desk.

 

“Where could it have come from? Who would have poisoned Sansa’s tea?” Lord Beric asks, his voice low and deadly. He looks ready to rip someone apart.

 

“Someone killed Sansa’s son, the crowned prince of Camelot and nephew of the King, shouldn’t Sir Gwaine be brought into this conversation?” Jon asks, his heart still pounding.

 

“No, he’ll want to tell Sansa and the last thing she needs is to know someone murdered her son. Gwaine needs to focus on keeping our Princess sane after this. We can protect Sansa, but there needs to be a Sansa to protect,” Jory interjects.

 

“No, you’re right,” Jon agrees, stopping suddenly to remember the conversation he had with Sansa the night of Robb and Morgana’s coronation, “I don’t know who actually gave Sansa the moon tea, but I think… and this cannot leave this room, but I think the… Queen might have ordered it.”

 

_Present – Camelot_

Edmure leads Jon to a clearing in the forest. Jon spots Sansa instantly, a vision of beauty and color in a garden of gray. She’s sitting on her knees, her blue skirt fanned around her as she stares down at an engraving on a large stone. She is dressed like a Princess of the North, her red hair free to fall down her back and shoulders, pinned back only by the silver of her circlet. Her gown is an ice blue made of the thinnest silk, trimmed in gray with a large direwolf down the side. She is a stark contrast to the stone of the Memory Garden.

 

The Garden is still relatively new, having been completed only two years ago. They say it is a garden of ghosts, that you can still hear the whispers of the dead. Jon’s heard the common folk whisper that the statues that represent the fallen come to life in the night and seek the blood of those that killed them. The entire garden is a grave, the statues representing what the bones beneath them looked like in life. His parents and Edmure have no statues; their bones have been returned to their respective homes. Jon escorted his father’s bones to Harrenhal when he took Sansa away nearly five years ago, while Prince Bran had escorted his own father’s and Lyanna’s to Winterfell, but he still recognizes many of the statues. There is Sir Percival, standing tall with a stone sword out and ready. There is Sir Leon, sitting on a bench with a thoughtful expression and a diplomatic smile. There is the boy Sansa sent to guard Cersei, and many others. But it is the statues Sansa sits before.

 

 The statues are tall and grand, two saviors against the sun, two royals who had their childhood stolen from them. Robb and Sansa are carved in stone, dressed in finer clothes than either would ever wear, wearing their crowns and looking every bit a King and Queen. They are the beaten children of Lord Stark, the tortured and broken. Morgana had been furious when she saw them, yelling to Robb that he loved his sister more than her. There is a stone plaque to the side, a simple summary of the war so that the reason these men are dead for will never be forgotten.

 

Edmure runs towards the girl who so resembles Jon’s wife. It pulls at Jon’s heart, it fills his head with visions of Sansa playing with another boy with red hair.

 

“Aunt Sansa!” his son screeches happily, running towards Sansa with his arms out.

 

“Sweet boy,” Sansa says kindly, opening her arms to his son like a mother. Jon stiffens when he sees the tear tracts on his cousin’s cheeks. She’s been crying again. He’d hoped she’s been getting better.

 

_Four Years Ago – Harrenhal_

“I want my son!” Sansa screams, scratching at the arms that hold her. She’s beside herself with grief, uncurling before Jon’s eyes. She’s been holding it together for months, but the royal order demanding her return to Camelot has broken her restraint. The gates have opened and the water’s swarmed her. She’s downing beneath the weight of the world and all he can do is watch.

 

“Sansa,” Gwaine whispers into her ear, ignoring her long nails rooted in his arm, “Sweet girl, you’ve been so strong, so strong.” The knight’s tone is soothing and intimate, making Jon feel like he’s intruding, but he doesn’t move. “You’ve had to sacrifice everything and they still take more. You don’t have to be strong anymore. Let go, I will never let you go, do you hear me?” Sansa stops struggling against him, her body still heaving in his arms as she breaks down into shaking sobs. “I will never let you fall. I will always hold you close. Let go Sansa, let go.”

 

 


	39. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa reveals a darker side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is about to get darker.

**Chapter 39 - Sansa**

Sansa doesn’t look up when her chamber door opens, only a few people ever walk into her room unannounced and two of them are at Winterfell escorting her mother to visit Bran. It doesn’t concern her that the door swings shut.

“Princess Sansa, it’s been too long,” a female voice says from behind her.

_Four Years Ago - Harrenhal_

“You’re going to do what?” Jon asks her, giving her the look that reminds her of her father whenever he was worried about her.

“I’m going to visit Elizabeth,” she repeats, continuing to pack her trunk. She can’t tell him the truth of why she wants to go and see his sister, he’d never let her go if he did. She needs to look the devil in the eye, she needs to be with family as vengeful as her. Elizabeth understands her pain, understands what it’s like to be a pawn in someone else’s game. Elizabeth can help her avenge her son’s death. She’s been too lenient, she pled for Arthur’s life when his lie cost her both her father’s life and her purity, she insisted on a proper funeral for the King that ordered her father’s death and he was the one that took her purity. Those people destroyed her life and she sat pretty and smiled as they did it. Now she’s going to do something about it, she’s going to avenge her family. Cersei Lannister is still alive and she hasn’t slept well since her brother told her that she would live to honor a bargain he made for the Lannister army.

“Sansa, Elizabeth is newly married and Cersei is there. She’s been stripped of her titles and her name but she still wanders free among the grounds. You would see her for meals and just wandering the halls. She may have been spared but it doesn’t mean she’s developed any love for our family.” Sansa appreciates her cousin’s concern, she knows he just wants to protect her, but  she needs to do this, she needs to confront the demons that haunt her.

_Present - Camelot_

Sansa spins around at the sound of the voice, dropping the book she’s holding. Relief floods her chest when she spots her cousin. Elizabeth has changed much in the years since Sansa’s time at Casterly Rock with her. She now wears a gown of Lannister red and gold and her long brown curls have been swept up into a tight bun with two tendrils framing her face. She doesn’t look like the girl Sansa met those years ago, she looks like a woman married and a highborn Lady of one of the most powerful Houses in all of Camelot.

“Elizabeth!” Sansa breaths, tears forming in her eyes as she embraces her cousin.

“Jon says you haven’t been well cousin and I’ve come to see why,” Elizabeth says as she pulls away from her.

Tears flood Sansa’s eyes. “I want my son,” she whispers, her chest hurting as she looks up into Elizabeth’s eyes. As the tears fall again, she feels her Elizabeth’s arms wrap around her. She never cried at Casterly Rock, not once. She’s been held by Gwaine, Jon, Jory, Beric, and even Aegon, but there is something different being held by a woman. When she lost her son she cried for her mother, for Morgana, for her Aunt Lyanna, for any woman who’s ever cared for her. She didn’t know or share any blood with Rhaenys so her comfort hadn’t meant anything. Elizabeth cared for her, was willing to help her.

_Four Years Ago - Casterly Rock_

By the time Sansa makes it to Casterly Rock, her will to be diplomatic is almost gone. The Lannisters stand in a tidy little row, ready to greet her as the sister of the King and Princess of Camelot. She recognizes Lord Jaime almost immediately from the stories her brother used to tell her. He’s standing tall and beautiful with a full head of golden hair and dressed to impress in no doubt his finest armor with his Lannister cloak draped over his shoulders. Next to him is her cousin Elizabeth, looking too stiff and too fake in her smile. After Elizabeth is Lord Tyrion, whom Sansa knows nothing more than his name. It’s who is at Tyrion’s left that makes Sansa’s blood run hot and her stomach tighten.

“It is a pleasure to receive you Princess Sansa, welcome to Casterly Rock of the Westerlands. I am Lord Jaime Lannister, acting Lord of the Rock,” Jaime greets, stepping towards her to help her dismount from her horse. He lifts her easily, swinging her off to the ground like she weighs nothing more than a doll.

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance my Lord, my brother has told me stories of your grace with a sword. I would like to extend congratulations for your marriage on behalf of the crown,” she says with perfect diplomacy.

“I thank you your highness,” Lord Jaime replies with bow of his head.

“Lady Elizabeth, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Sansa says stiffly as she steps forward to embrace her cousin. The minute Elizabeth’s arms wrap around her Sansa relaxes a bit, knowing a true ally stands with her.

“We will speak soon cousin,’ Elizabeth whispers against her ear as they pull away.

“Princess Sansa, I am very sorry for your loss. If there is anything we can do to make you more comfortable, you need only ask it of us,” Lord Tyrion tells her sincerely. He is an ugly little thing but Sansa thinks of the born Lannisters he has the sincerest eyes.

Before Sansa can respond to the younger Lannister Lord, another golden haired, green eyed, highborn noble steps forward.

“Lady Sansa, it has been almost a year, how wonderful to see you again,” comes the soft voice of Cersei Lannister.

Sansa stiffens at the voice, her back going ridged and her heart picking up speed.

“You are speaking to a princess,” Lord Beric hisses from behind her.

“Of course, my apologies your highness,” Cersei says with a smirk.

_Present - Camelot_

“So cousin, how have things been?” Elizabeth asks as they wander the lower levels of the castle, arm in arm. The lower levels are rarely used, filled with bed chambers that are rarely used outside of wartime.

“I don’t know anything anymore,” Sansa replies, taking a deep breath.

“You and my brother have grown close it seems, if letters are anything to go by,” Elizabeth teases, quickly putting Sansa at ease.

“He is a great comfort, a brother in all but blood.” Sansa smiles to herself, happy to be with her female cousin. She provides the same comfort as Jon while also providing the companionship of a woman. Corrine is a wonderful companion, but she’s too like Jon, diplomatic, sensible, and very forgiving. Corrine, despite all she’s gone through, is still unspoiled by the war. Elizabeth, she thinks, has had the most happen to her due to the war aside from herself. Elizabeth’s had both her parents taken from her, has had her family taken from her, and has been forced to marry the brother of the woman who started the war with her evil deeds.

“He’s always been a good brother to my siblings and I,” Elizabeth agrees with a soft smile, “He’s the most like our father. Rhaenys is all her mother, with the exception of her coloring. Aegon looks the spitting image of our father but he is all his mother same as Rhaenys. I am my mother, from my looks to my personality. But Jon is our father, the look of our mother but all the personality of our father. He is kind, gentle, strong, and very intellectual. He is the best man there is.”

“He fought me for a week on letting me go to see you alone,” Sansa tells her.

“I’d imagine he would have. He isn’t stupid, he knew why you were coming to see me.”

_Four Years Ago - Casterly Rock_

“I thought Casterly Rock tore out their Godswood years ago,” Sansa observes as she looks over the trees and pond.

“The minute Robb agreed to marry me to Jaime, he had his builders carve out the faces of the old gods on the center most tree of their weirwood. It is the only place in the palace that we may talk freely. Why have you come Sansa?”

“You know why I have come cousin,” Sansa replies simply, turning to face the only member of her family who will help her with her new endeavor. “I mean to kill Cersei Lannister, and I ask for your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of this new Sansa? Anyone starting to like Elizabeth? She's whiney and obsessive but she's loyal.


	40. Elizabeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth plans a ball.

**Chapter 40 - Elizabeth**

Elizabeth smiles as she looks out over the view her balcony provides her. It’s prettier than her one at Casterly Rock. From here she can see the people of the village live their lives. There are children playing by a brook and young boys using sticks to hit scarecrows in hopes of one day being knights. What interests her the most, however, is her view of the gardens. Sansa is in the gardens, sitting quietly on a stone bench while little Lyanna and Edmure run around her. Elizabeth sees Sir Gwaine and Jory standing guard not too far away. Gwaine is watching Sansa with love filled eyes and Jory is watching them both in a slightly disguised mixture of amusement and annoyance. She sighs to herself, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her body.

They need to stop putting Sansa’s life on hold, she’ll never get better that way. The court of Camelot hasn’t changed in the three years since the death of the crowned prince of Camelot. Bran has since been named heir to the throne but nothing else is any different. There hasn’t been a festival, a ball, a birthday celebration, or even a visiting Lord or Lady not related to the crown. Sansa needs to be pulled out of her own head. She needs to spend the night on her feet, being pulled around the dance floor by Lords from all over Camelot and knights and Stark Guard.

_Seven Years Ago - Winterfell_

Elizabeth and Robb lay sprawled out on the green grass of the greenhouse. They’re hiding from his mother who's been trying to get Elizabeth to talk nicely about Rhaenys in hopes that Robb will show an interest in marriage.

“Have you heard from Sansa?” she asks, her fingers playing with Robb’s in a kind of dance.

“No, but according to father’s letter, the King hosted another ball for her,” Robb says with a laugh, turning onto his side so he’s looking over her.

“So she likes to dance?” Elizabeth asks, a smile stretching across her face.

“Father says she dances more than she walks,” Robb replies, “I wish she could come home for a Northern feast. Mother says she thinks Sansa and I would be perfect dancing partners the same we she and Edmure are.”

“Jon and I are good dancing partners, not that either of us like to dance. I hope you get your dance with your sister.”

“Me too.”

_Present - Camelot_

Elizabeth smiles to herself as she turns on her heel and makes her way towards her eldest cousin’s chamber. She doesn’t bother knocking as she enters, startling Robb from his work at his desk.

“Elizabeth, will you ever learn to knock?”

“Robb, I have entered your chambers unannounced since I was old enough to run about unaccompanied, do you truly believe this aspect of my behavior will change? I am my mother’s daughter,” Elizabeth says half heartedly. “I have a proposition.”

“Alright, what is your proposition?” Robb asks, rising from his desk to approach her.

“The Queen’s birthday is coming up, let’s host a ball.”

“A ball?” Robb asks incredulously. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sansa is still-”

“Sansa needs to dance. You remember a few years ago when you told me that Uncle Ned told you how much Sansa loves dancing? You’ve done nothing but keep the royal court on hold in the hopes of keeping Sansa happy, but she won’t be happy until we show that there is still a life to be had even without her son. What happened, is horrible, but she needs to move on or she’ll continue to self destruct. You can dance with her, play a Northern song and make her laugh. Show her what it’s like to live again.”

“I don’t know Elizabeth…”

“Robb, you know you need to do this, for her. You started a war to protect your sister, so protect her now, from herself,” Elizabeth pleads.

“Do you really think it will work Lizzie?” he asks her.

“Do you want your sister back?”

“Yes.”

“Then make the plans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine/Sansa fluff next chapter. :)


	41. Robb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb admits a startling secret.

**Chapter 41 - Robb**

He’s never seen the throne room so beautiful. The servants really outdid themselves. There are golden flowers and silk tapestries every which way. The tables are stocked high with food and all the nobles have come to court dressed in their finest gowns and tunics. The music is loud and people are chatting loudly, it makes Robb nostalgic for Winterfell.

“You look forlorn, Your Grace,” Elizabeth says from his side. She is quite beautiful, dressed in some southern gown of golden and crimson. The light from the chandeliers make her gown shimmer and her eyes sparkle.

“Just remembering the feasts of Winterfell cousin. I’m sure you remember,” he tells her, sitting back on his throne while waving his hand so she may sit next to him.

“They look wonderful, don’t they?” Elizabeth asks with a smile, looking out at the crowd of people.

“They do,” Robb agrees.

He recognizes many of the nobles. Lord Beric is dancing with Princess Elena from Gawant. One of the sons of Lord Eldred of Northumbria is dancing with Lady Rhaenys. Lord Aegon is dancing with Corrine and Jon is dancing with his daughter. He doesn’t care to watch any of them though, his eyes are planted firmly on his sister. Theon is sweeping her across the dance floor, twisting her and turning her like she ways nothing at all. He’s never seen his sister so happy, not in a long time. There is color in her cheeks and mirth in her eyes. She is not healed by any means but there is hope for the first time in years.

Sir Gwaine steps in, a cocky smile on his face as he says something to Theon. Robb laughs as his friend walks away in a huff. As Gwaine takes his sister’s hand, he sees something in Sansa’s eyes, it’s the same look his mother once gave his father. They look like they are the only two in the world. Sansa looks down at her and Gwaine’s joined hand before looking back up into his best knight’s eyes. They are wide and unburdened for the first time.

“Gwen,” he calls to his head maid. The pretty woman rushes to his side, eager to serve him.

“Yes Your Grace?” she asks eagerly.

“You told me there was a song Sansa liked, one she danced to as a girl. What was it?” he asks. He sees Elizabeth smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Lady of the Water,” Gwen quickly replies.

“Ask the musicians to play it, please,” he tells her. She nods to him, running off to relay his message.

When the fiddles begin the opening chords of the Lady of the Water he sees Sansa freeze mid dance, turning to look at the musicians. Her rose petal mouth opens and closes as Gwaine gently places his hand on the side of her face, cupping her cheek and turning her to face him. There are tears in her eyes, but for once they aren’t of devastation.

“There is trouble brewing in your kingdom dear cousin,” Elizabeth says from his side, raising her goblet to her lips. He doesn’t turn to look at her, instead he keeps his gaze firmly planted on his sister.

Sansa is smiling up at Gwaine, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as the knight places his hand on her waist and pulls her close. Their heads bend so their foreheads are pressed together, and Robb would bet good money that Gwaine is complementing the Princess of Camelot. Robb smiles when his sister’s cheeks blush a beautiful shade of pink. He hopes this is the start of a new Sansa, maybe this way she can heal. He wants so desperately to help her, to avenge the death of her son. The way she’s dealt with it has been anything but healthy. He still remembers the letter that came from Casterly Rock, telling him that Cersei Lannister had been found dead, from apparently falling from a window. He’d immediately known Sansa had something to do with it, and he suspected that the very cousin to his right helped her in her task. He’d had to talk Jaime Lannister down as the man had nearly frothed at the mouth saying he would start a war.

“Trouble?” he asks, though he knows what his cousin will say. Despite what many like to think, he knows much of what goes on in his Kingdom. He knows he has been unfair to his brother, who wants nothing more than to be a knight. He knows his sister has slowly unraveled over the years. He knows Elizabeth is still in love with him. He knows that Jon has made it his personal mission to protect Sansa. But most of all, he knows he made a big mistake marrying his wife.

“Friends have enlightened me that your wife killed Sansa’s son,” she says, her eyes firmly planted on Sansa as well.

“Now, the King would like to share a dance with the Princess,” a harold announces, a round of applause ringing through the hall.

Robb sets his own goblet down, rising to meet the applause. He sees Gwaine lean down to press a chaste kiss on his sister’s cheek. She smiles sweetly before looking up to him. There is still a glimmer of pain in her eyes, but it’s masked with happiness and the start of a new beginning. His heart breaks seeing her so radiant when he knows it won’t last.

“I know,” he tells his cousin, not stopping to look at the startled expression on her face. Instead he descends the stairs to meet his sister on the dance floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter won't be for a few days. My computer decided to kill me slowly.


	42. Gwaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine for all intents asks Sansa out and forms a new alliance.

**Chapter 42 - Gwaine**

Gwaine has never felt so happy in his entire life. Hearing Sansa’s laughter, after years of silence, is sweeter than anything else he could possibly imagine. Dancing with her again is like a dream. She fits so perfectly in his arms, like the gods made them specifically so they are only whole when his arms are wrapped around her. He loves the feel of her waist beneath his one hand while the other clasps hers and is pulled close to their faces. Their heads are bent together so their foreheads touch. Her skin is smooth and cool to the touch and he loves every bit of her.

“I want to tell you that you’ve never been more beautiful, but you are always beautiful, no matter what you wear, not matter what has happened, you are the most beautiful woman in all the world,” he whispers.

She blushes beautiful and a wave of joy overtakes him. To see something other than grief in her eyes makes him feel alive. She has been so sad since the death of her son. Her agony and sadness was like a crippling force that slowly flooded the hearts of all who love her. They’d been drowning with her, unable to separate from her pain. He knows she isn’t better, not even a little, but there is a willingness to move on that wasn’t there before. “You are too kind Sir Gwaine,” she murmurs, their breath mixing together.

“I want to petition your brother for the honor of courting you,” he tells her softly.

She sighs quietly against him, turning her eyes up to meet his. There are tears clouding them and though they are sad, they are not defeated. “You don’t want me,” she promises.

His heart tightens at her words. If only he could make her understand how false the statement is. He’s loved her since the moment he met her. At first it was a platonic, brotherly love, as she was too young to love her romantically. Not long after his coming to Camelot, she’d wandered away from a feast held in her honor. Arthur had such little interest in his betrothed that Sansa’d gotten easily bored. Gwaine had found her, sitting in the Queen’s Garden, holding a lily in her hand. She’d smiled up at him with eyes full of youthful joy. He’s loved her since. He held her close after Uther stole her innocence. He wept when the child he’d already come to love was so terribly ripped from her. He’d imagined helping her raise the child, caring for it as if they were his own. He’s always wanted her, he’s cursed to love her for the rest of his life and it is a curse he will gladly bear.

“I will always want you,” he tells her as the harold announces the special dance between the King and his sister. He leans over to kiss her, his lips lingering on her cheek for a moment longer than they should. She smiles, a blush creeping across her cheeks before raising her eyes to look at him. There is still pain but there is hope in her eyes and his heart soars.

He watches as the King descends the steps and approaches Sansa while the floor clears away. Robb smiles down at Sansa as if she is the only thing in the world and Sansa is smiling back at him. The King falls into a bow as she sinks into a curtsey. She takes her brother’s hand as music fills the air. Robb twirls her before pulling her into his arms.

Gwaine thinks maybe Sansa was born to dance. She and Robb are the perfect dancing companions, floating across the room as if on a cloud. They are in perfect time with both each other and the music. Anyone that didn’t know better would think they spent their lives dancing together. Their moves are more graceful and more fluid than anything anyone has ever seen.

To his left, Gwaine spots Morgana. He is surprised to see a softness to her smile that he hasn’t seen directed at Sansa for many years. There is still jealousy in her eyes but a motherly affection that used to completely consume her when it came to Sansa and Bran.

He returns his gaze to Sansa, just in time to see Robb sweep her into a lift. There is love in her eyes, the same kind she gives Bran. As much as Sansa used to talk about her big brother Robb, he knows she’d never truly considered him family, too hurt that he never came to visit her. She is seeing Robb in a new light now, the one Gwaine has always seen. Robb has many faults and he has made many mistakes, but he has always loved his sister. He started a war for her and tried (while badly) to ensure her safety by claiming that he held Morgana. You can question the King’s morals, his actions, and even his integrity, but you can never question his love for his sister. Robb is a good brother, caring and protective. All Sansa ever need do is ask and Robb will find a way to grant her the world. Gwaine’s even heard whispers that Robb is trying to find a legal way of crowning Sansa as Queen of Camelot.

“They’re lovely together, a perfect match. No one dances more beautifully than a brother and sister. You have a sister, don’t you Sir Gwaine?” Lady Elizabeth asks as she walks up alongside him.

“Yes,” he confirms, suspicious of her very presence. He’s happy she arranged for this ball to help Sansa, but he’s heard the rumors of her tempor. “I never got along with my sister, but I suppose we always danced well together.”

“Sometimes we don’t get along with siblings, but they are usually our greatest ally. When Cersei fell from the window, Jaime clawed at my skin until blood ran down my arms and my back. Had I written any one of my siblings they would have come straight away and ripped his heart out from his chest. I didn’t write them though, there were others parties involved I needed to protect. There is no one that will protect us so well as our family, even if it means spilling blood.”

“I know,” he replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine has finally basically asked Sansa out. YAY!
> 
> Now what is Elizabeth up too? She's already helped Sansa kill one Queen...
> 
> And Robb is trying to make Sansa Queen? True or rumor?


	43. Bran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Bran visits Riverrun

**Chapter 43 - Bran**

“Why are you here Bran?” Roslin Tully asks pointedly.

Bran laughs into his goblet of tea, stretching out lazily and returning it to the table. The Lord of Winterfell and Heir of Camelot’s Throne likes his Aunt very much. When he first met his Uncle Edmure, the man had told Bran all about Roslin. He’d said that when they first married, she was a shy girl who rarely did anything other than ask what she could do to serve her Lord husband. He’d told Bran that it wasn’t until many years of encouragement that Roslin grew into the strong and independant woman that sits before him today.

“Can I not just come for a visit dear Aunt?” he asks, his time at Winterfell having taught him a cockiness his mother scuffs at and his sister laughs at in her letters.

“Brandon Stark, last time you came was five years ago when you brought me my husband’s bones,” his Aunt replies.

Five Years Ago - Riverrun

Bran grips his reigns tighter when sees his aunt at the Water Gate. She is alone. She’s dressed in a dark blue gown, trimmed in red, and he thinks maybe she wears it to keep her husband close. Her long dark hair falls down her shoulders but there are strands of white in her it that wasn’t there when he last saw her a few months ago. She’s aged visibly in such a short time. The Lady of the Riverlands has grown frailer since the death of her husband and it makes Bran wish Corrine had come with him, but Robb still needs her in Camelot since Jon took Sansa away to Harrenhal to have her baby in peace.

“Aunt Roslin,” Bran says as he dismounts his horse, waving the Kingsguard to proceed on to the castle along with his mother, “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you nephew,” she tells him with a weak smile as she takes his hand. “How does my daughter fair in the capital?”

“Very well my Lady, she is well loved and she has the King’s ear,” he assures her, kissing his aunt’s cheek.

“Did you bring me my husband’s bones?” she asks him quietly after a long moment. There is a brokenness in her voice that makes his heart tighten but he nods anyway.

“Yes,” he whispers as turning to the trunk two of the Stark Guard carry. He nods them forward. They place the trunk at his Aunt’s feet before stepping back and disappearing into the trees to give the two kin some space.

“Edmure,” his Aunt whispers, falling to her knees beside the trunk,placing one hand over the lid while the other goes to cover her stomach, “I wish you were here with me. The physician told me a moon ago that I am with child, your child.”

Present - Riverrun

“I assure you Aunt Roslin, I have just come to get to know my kin,” Bran tells her simply, bringing his tea to his lips as he bows his head towards the small boy running about the gardens at the bottom of the small hill.

The boy looks just like Edmure did as a child according to his mother, same bright red hair and pale blue eyes. Roslin had named the boy Eddard after his fallen Uncle, as Corrine had wanted to use the name Edmure for her own son should she have one (for at the time, she didn’t). They call him Eddie, little Lord Eddie of the Riverlands. The boy is strong, always running around like Bran did when he was still allowed. Aunt Roslin tells him that the minute she turns her eyes away she will return them to find her son climbing one of the towers. He was born three days before Sansa’s own stillborn son.

Eddie laughs as he chases the rabbits. It makes Bran’s heart warm.

“My father once told me that my Aunt Lyanna chased rabbits as well as your good son Jon. I did as well,” he says, watching her reaction closely.

“Did they now?” she asks him, though he quickly notices the catch in her throat.

Eddie runs up the hill, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling with youthful joy. Roslin’s eyes sparkle as she sweeps him into her arms, placing him on her lap instead of the chair. Bran watches with wide eyes as Eddie’s tiny hand reaches for the lemon cakes at the very end of the tray of sweets. The movement makes Bran’s mouth go dry. He may have theorized this, but he never gave any weight to his thought. He’d decided to come for a visit to disprove his silly theory, but now it seems to carry a little more water.

It would be so easy. They were both boys, almost exactly the same age, born of a red haired and brown haired parent. It can’t be, can it?

“Aunt Roslin, would you care to accompany me on a spontaneous trip to Camelot?” he asks warmly, hiding his inner panic.

****  
He needs to speak with his brother and King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone know what Bran's thinking? 
> 
> Sorry it's been a few days, computer still isn't fixed. It won't be daily updates but they'll come quick enough I hope. Next chapter we return to Robb's court.


	44. Jory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jory and Robb discuss Bran

**Chapter 44 - Jory**

“How is she fairing?” Robb asks from behind him. Jory turns to face his King.

“Better, I believe the ball did our dear princess a world of good. Her appetite has returned to her and she laughs more. She is still vastly unhappy, but she grows strong with each passing day,” Jory informs his King, returning his gaze to the red haired beauty who plays in the gardens with her cousin’s twins, Edmure and Lyanna.

“I am glad, it appears my cousin was right, Sansa needed us to stop holding life from her,” Robb says, placing a hand on the balcony to join him in his watch over the Stark Princess. “Two riders came today, one under the flag of the Tully and another under the flag of the crown.” Robb extends two letters to him.

Jory opens the first of the two.

__

_Dearest Nephew,_

__

_Your brother came for a visit. I fear he might have realized the identity of my guest. He has decided to take a trip to come visit you and I hope my rider makes it to you before then._

__

_Give my love to Corrine, Jon, Edmure, and Lyanna. Tell Corrine that her brother fairs well and that we look forward to seeing her on her next visit._

__

_With love,_

__

_Roslin Tully_

_House Frey, Rosby, and Tully_

_Lady of Riverrun_

_Lady of the Twins_

“So Eddie is safe, but Bran has likely discovered the boy’s identity. Is that a terrible fate? He won’t do anything to harm the child. He will not tell, not even Sansa so long as we explain why to him,” Jory advises as he opens the second letter.

_Brother,_

__

_I went to visit our widowed Aunt. I made a jape to my bannerman how funny it would be if our cousin and nephew had been switched soon after birth. I went to the Riverlands to ease my own foolish mind, until I saw him chasing rabbits and eating lemon cakes. The boy climbs as I did in my youth and mother says he looks the very image of Edmure at that age, who mother once called the boy version of Sansa. The two boys were born only days apart and Harrenhal is not far of a ride from Riverrun._

__

_I ride to see you brother, to beg that you tell me my mind is still young and that you have not hidden away Sansa’s child and your heir. I cannot imagine that you would cause our sister such great pain as to make her believe her child’s been taken away by the gods. Who is it that took her babe from her? Neither Gwaine nor Jon would have the heart. Was it Lord Aegon or Lady Rhaenys? When I arrive, call me a fool and I will believe you, but say nothing and I will know._

__

_I will be there within days of this letter’s arrival._

__

_Prince Bran Stark_

_House Stark and Tully_

_Prince of Camelot_

_Lord of Winterfell_

“He believes I did this to Sansa for reasons far more selfish than the truth. He thinks I would truly hurt Sansa this way,” Robb says, tears in his eyes, “I would never hurt her if I didn’t have to.” Robb steps forward and places his palms against the stone of the balcony, looking down at the sister he loves so dearly. The Princess of Camelot is laughing, truly laughing as she sweeps down to capture little Lyanna in her arms. Gwaine has joined her and the twins in their games, chasing little Edmure through the flowers. They look like a family, the way it should have been.

Jory sighs, knowing how hard it was for his King to make the command that Sansa not know. His King had considered his sister’s feelings longer than he should have. Placing Eddard Pendragon under the care of his Aunt Roslin is the only decision Robb has made regarding his sister where he did not make the decision as a brother, but rather a King.

“May I speak freely?” he asks, knowing his King will not like what he has to say.

“Always Jory, you know that,” Robb tells him.

“Did you really expect Bran to think any different? You have always favored Sansa over him. When she was first born and your father laid her in your arms you looked at her and promised to protect her from the world and love her till the day you died. As she grew, you never left her side. You cried for weeks after Lord Stark took her away. You wrote her letters every week and sent lavish gifts on her nameday. You doted on her and never gave your brother a glance. All Bran knows is the foolish King from your first year and the one the brother that ignored him and screamed that he must have released Arthur. Bran is as protective of Sansa as you and he has only ever seen the worst of you.”

“You’re right,” Robb whispers, a tear trailing down his face.

“Bring him into your confidence now, but keep in mind that Morgana raised him and that he will not turn easily from her.”

“I will,” Robb says with a nod. “Summon Lord Aegon to the Capital, I think he must help explain for Bran to understand.”

****  
“Of course.”


	45. Aegon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegon has more than one secret.

**Chapter 45 - Aegon**

When Lord Aegon VI Targaryen received the summons from his King, he left right then, in the night. He didn’t even stop to wake Rhaenys and tell her he was leaving. He’s already halfway to Riverrun when it’s time for her to wake. He and his one companion are at Riverrun by nightfall and he spends the night in a warm bed, his brother’s second cousin sitting beside him.

“Uncle Aegon, why are you my uncle?” little Eddie asks, looking over to Aegon with wide Tully eyes. The boy reminds Aegon so much of a boy Sansa. His shoulder length red hair frames his porcelain face like a porcelain doll. He’s the most beautiful child Aegon’s ever seen (though he suspects that thought might change once he sees his niece and nephew for the first time).

“Because my brother’s family is your family and as I am older you call me Uncle and I call you nephew.” Aegon smiles at the boy he whisked away as a child to Riverrun. The child is so lovely, same as Sansa. It’d hurt him, when he first took the slumbering baby and mounted his horse, not telling Sansa, Jon, or even Rhaenys that the Heir of Camelot lived. He’s never once regretted it... not to say that he didn’t feel guilty whenever he listened to Sansa weep over the loss of her son. Still, he’s always known it was worth it, is worth it.

“How is my mother, Uncle Jon’s family?” the boy asks, just as curiously as Jon was as a child.

If only you knew Eddie, if only you knew he thinks, instead he says, “Your cousin Sansa is my half brother Jon’s cousin, her family is Jon’s family and Jon’s family is my family.”

“Will I ever meet cousin Sansa? Mother says she looks just like sister, only with hair darker and longer,” Eddie continues, causing Aegon to laugh.

“Enough Eddie, you are awake far later than your mother would ever allow. I will take you to your room and we will see one another in the morning,” Aegon laughs, hoisting the boy up into his arms.

“I don’t want to go to my chamber, can I not sleep here with you?” Eddie asks so innocently, if only he knew how much he resembles his mother at this moment. Sansa has given those same eyes to Aegon countless times, whenever she wanted him to write her a poem or teach her the piano. They always worked for her and they will work for her son as well.

“Alright little prince,” he says without thinking, but Eddard Pendragon is too excited to care, curling under the blankets.

“Good night Uncle Aegon,” Eddie whispers, shutting those eyes Aegon’s fallen in love with.

Aegon falls asleep himself, falling into dream world.

_“Aegon,” Sansa calls as she enters the Hall of the Hundred Hearths._

__

_Aegon smiles as he looks up to greet the Princess of Camelot. She looks everlastingly beautiful. Her fire kissed hair is piled high on her head with a few tendrils fallen to frame her face. Her dress is black, trimmed in red lace with a red bodice. Her hair catches in the firelight and her eyes sparkle beneath the moonlight streaming in through the windows._

__

_“Sansa, why are you up so late?” he asks, rising from his piano to walk towards her.  He can see the slight swell of her belly beneath her dress. He wishes he could wrap his arms around her and kiss her gently, but he knows her heart belongs to another, though he doubts they know it yet. He wonders if it is a curse of Targaryen men, to fall in love with a Stark woman._

__

_“The baby has been kicking all day, so I decided a walk would do me well. One of the servants told me you were in here. I was hoping you would play for me.”_

__

_“As my Lady commands,” he says with a charming smile and a bow._

__

_Sansa gives him her sweetest smile as he takes her hand, laying a small kiss on the top of her hand._

Aegon’s eyes open when a small weight plops on his chest. He looks up to see Eddie sitting on his chest with a large smile. The boy looks beautiful in the morning sun and for a moment Aegon can imagine that it is his own son with Sansa in his bed to wake him and that Sansa is off to wake their second child. The Lord of Harrenhal laughs as he jumps up, sweeping the boy into his arms and tossing him onto the bed. The boy squeals with laughter as Aegon dances his fingers over the child’s stomach.

They are interrupted by Aegon’s traveling companion. Both Aegon and Eddie look up in their laughter to the knight, who does not look amused, but he never did.

It isn’t until they’ve finished breaking their fast with Lady Roslin and started back on the road to Camelot that his riding companion finally speaks his mind.

“My Lord, what I have to say is not pleasant, but as the North encourages open dialogue and I feel I must speak my mind,” the knight says, refusing to look Aegon in the eye.

“Of course,”Aegon replies, “always speak your mind.”

“I know it is common for noble lord to take a boy to their bed, but Lord Eddard is the heir of the Riverlands. Should Lady Roslin have had a second son then it would not be so… To have Lord Eddard in your bed could bring war between House Targaryen and House Tully. The boy is the King’s cousin and His Grace could easily remove you from succession and name Jon Lord of Harrenhal.”

Aegon feels sick at the very thought, while Lords taking boys to their bed isn’t a foreign concept, he’s never heard of a Northern Lord taking one, not recently. It’s a common practice in the South, for a Lord to take a boy baseborn or noble (so long as the noble is not an heir). He can’t believe anyone could think that of him. The boy is a child, a child. He would never do such a thing at all, but especially not to Sansa’s son.

“No, no, no, I did not lay one hand on that boy. We are not the South, I will never take a child to my bed. I promise you that,” he promises, turning his head away from his traveling companions.

****  
They make the rest of their journey in near silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, Aegon is not a child molester, he just has poetic language in thought. Keep in mind he writes poetry.


	46. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran arrives in Camelot

**Chapter 46 - Sansa**

“Princess,” Gwaine says, startling Sansa from her sewing.

“Gwaine, where have you been?” Sansa asks with a smile, rising from the stone bench of the Queen’s Garden, placing the handkerchief she’d been embroidering into the hands of her beautiful niece Lyanna.

“Lady Elizabeth invited me for a ride through the forest,” he replies.

Sansa raises an eyebrow at the statement, wondering what her dear cousin wants with Gwaine. She quickly brushes the thought aside, in favor of teasing her beloved knight. “Still with the formalities, why do you call her Lady when not in the company of large crowds? You know we care not for our titles, and while Elizabeth may be a newly made Southern Lady, she is still of the North,” she teases, placing her hand on his chest and smiling up at him. The way he looks at her in return makes her heart melt and a part of her still cannot believe it is real, that he wants her knowing she is no longer a maid and how it was she lost it. She wants to kiss him, but as he has not yet asked her brother for permission to court her, she cannot.

“And how are you my little Lady?” Gwaine asks, stepping away from Sansa and crouching low beside little Lyanna. Gwaine has taken to both little Edmure and Lyanna almost as much as Sansa has. They are both very lucky that Jon and Corrine are so willing to share their children. Both Sansa and Gwaine have been like second parents to the twins since their birth.

_Two Years Ago - Camelot_

Sansa thinks she is paler than Corrine when she enters the birthing room. She does not want to be here, not when the memory of her own time giving birth is so fresh in her mind, but she needs to be, for Corrine. Jon is in the country of Gawant, attempting to arrange a marriage between Princess Elena and any Lord of Camelot she desires. As King Godwyn was a strong ally of Uther, it was decided that the best way to prevent any chance of rebellion gaining them as an ally, was a marriage. No matter the reason however, Jon is not there and as Robb is up at Harrenhal visiting with Lord Aegon and Aunt Roslin is still in route to Camelot, Sansa is the only family Corrine has in the capital.

“Sansa, come here,” Morgana calls from Corrine’s side, continuing to press a damp cloth to Corrine’s fevered face.

Sansa quickly goes to her cousin’s side, taking the crying girl’s hand in her own.

“I want my mother, I want Jon,” Corrine cries, tears streaming from her eyes down to her ears.

“I know cousin, but we will do this together. I will not leave your side until Jon or Aunt Roslin is here to take my place. I promise you that,” Sansa whispers sweetly, brushing a damp hair away from Corrine’s face.

Not long later, the first baby is born. Little Lord Edmure Targaryen is born a quiet baby, not a tear in his eyes or a cry in his throat. Sansa’s entire body stiffens when the small boy is placed in the arms of Queen Morgana Stark.

“A girl!” the physician cries out, a smile on his face as he places the squealing infant into Sansa’s own arms. Sansa’s breath catches in her throat when she looks down at the beautiful baby in her arms. The girl is just as small as Eddard was, with red hair already starting to show and Tully blue eyes.

“Her name is Lyanna,” Corrine says suddenly, startling Sansa. Quickly remembering that the child is her cousin’s instead of her own, she places the beautiful babe into the Lady of Harrenhal’s arms.

_Present - Camelot_

Sansa looks away from Gwaine and Lyanna for a moment, turning to look at the gate in hopes of catching a glimpse of Jory. Instead she sees the flag of the crown and her eyes grow wide when she spots the silver gray animal running at on of the rider’s sides.

“Bran!” she screams, momentarily forgetting about Gwaine and Lyanna as she gathers her skirts in her hands and runs towards the gate.

She doesn’t stop running until she is nearly there. She hears the bells ringing to alert the King and Queen of a rider, but she pays them no attention. Bran demounts his horse the minute he sees her, running towards her with a smile as he scoops her up into his arms. He has grown strong in his years away. He is nearly sixteen and looks more like Robb than ever before.

“Sister!” he calls, laughing as he twirls her through the air before finally setting her down, “It has been too long.”

“It has,” she agrees, kissing both her brother’s cheeks before stepping away.

“And who might this young Lady be?” Bran asks, looking passed Sansa. She turns to see Gwaine has joined her, Lyanna sitting on his arm, her small arms wrapped around his neck.

“Aunt Sansa?” Lyanna asks cautiously.

“It is alright Lya, this is your Uncle Bran, my brother,” Sansa quickly introduces. As Bran goes to greet his niece/second-cousin, Sansa falls to her knees to greet Summer. The direwolf is nearly as large Grey Wind, who spends most of his time wandering the forest with Ghost as neither direwolf likes crowds of people.

She laughs as Summer licks her face affectionately before nuzzling his nose into her neck. He barks suddenly, giving her one last lick before scurrying off. The Princess of Camelot rises from the ground to see Robb coming with Grey Wind, Corrine (who holds little Edmure), and Morgana.

The two direwolves let out a howl of joy as they immediately tackle one another. Sansa notices Morgana’s discomfort at the direwolves and almost feels badly for her. Robb has ordered that direwolves remain near the outer parts of the castle as he knows his wife’s discomfort around them. Sansa think maybe Morgana would like the wolves if she would only try and get to know one of them. Unlike the Stark Guard and many of the Lords and Ladies of the North, Sansa bears Morgana no ill will. She understands Morgana is rash in her decisions and quick to execute those she deems in the way, but other than that Morgana has not done anything to earn the scorn of the Northern nobles, unless there is something she has done Sansa is not aware of.

“Brother,” Bran says, his voice stiffer than Sansa expected. It makes her curious as to why, for while her brothers have never gotten along, it has been years since they were outwardly cold to one another.

“Brother,” Robb greets in return, locking wrists together in a firm shake, “we have much to discuss.”

Sansa watches curiously as Bran’s eyes grow wide and fill with shock. Her younger brother turns to look at her and opens his mouth as if to say something. She and Corrine exchange a glance as they both notice Robb tighten his hold on Bran’s wrist. Morgana gives them a suspicious look before stepping forward to wrap her arms around the youngest Stark.

“Morgana,” Bran sighs, freeing his wrist from Robb’s clutch to encircle their shared mother figure with his arms.

“Are you well?” Morgana asks, stepping back as if to check him for wounds. Sansa smiles, delighted to see Bran accept a woman’s nurturing. From what Sansa’s read in Bran’s letters, he and their mother are not getting along very well. Sansa knows he has not forgiven his mother for never once visiting him and rarely sending him any letters.

“Brother, let us speak,” Robb interrupts, practically pulling Bran away from Morgana.

Sansa watches in confusion as her brothers walk off and Morgana quickly leads the rest of Bran’s party away, leaving Sansa with Corrine, the twins, and Gwaine.

“Where is Jon?” Sansa asks after a moment of silence, finally noticing her treasured companion’s absence.

  
“He had business in the village,” Corrine responds. Sansa nods and the three adults and two children return to the gardens, all wondering what it is Bran and the King need to speak of so urgently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, next chapter will be Robb's point of view and we get to see Gwaine ask his permission to court Sansa! :)


	47. Robb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine asks Robb's permission to court Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Hope you like it.

**Chapter 47 - Robb**

Robb has never been good with familial conflict, so when his brother storms out of his chamber, he doesn’t know what to do. He probably should do something other than sit in his chair, but he doesn’t, he remains rooted in place. He turns to Jory instead, desperate for guidance or reassurance. Should he run after his brother? Should he let someone Bran likes a little better do it instead?

“Bran will come around once we fully explain everything to him. He will listen to Aegon. The important thing is that he agreed to keep this secret until he hears the full story,” Jory assures him, instantly making Robb relax. He’s about to get up when he hears a knock on his door.

“Enter,” the King says tiredly. The door opens to reveal Sir Kay.

“Your Grace, Sir Gwaine wishes to speak with you,” his guard announces, stepping aside once Robb nods his head that he’ll see him.

Gwaine enters the room, dressed in his best attire. The usually confident man looks nervous and Robb almost laughs. He’s been waiting for this visit for a long time. Ever since he saw them sitting together at the banquet, he’s known that Sansa and Gwaine belong together. He’d fought it at first, as knights do not marry Princesses, but it was his wife that had convinced him that Sansa has suffered enough and that he should allow her this. This was before he began to doubt his wife.

“Gwaine, is my sister well?” he asks, rising from his seat even though he knows the answer. He goes to his window, feeling years older than his age as he looks out the glass to the Queen’s Garden below where Jon and Sansa both sit. This is the beginning, he knows, of her leaving him. Eventually she and Gwaine will marry and he will grant her and her husband a castle by the Great Sea of Meredor. Sansa will like the ocean.

“Quite well given her circumstances, Your Grace,” Gwaine answers. The man goes silent and Robb smiles sadly.

“If you wish to court my sister, you should feel more comfortable to call me by my given name. It is the way of the North,” he tells the knight.

“Of course, Robb,” the man says from behind him.

“Understand what I am giving you Gwaine,” Robb says, finally tearing his eyes away from his sister so that he may meet the knight’s eyes, “Sansa is a Princess of the North and Camelot, her hand could secure alliances or grant me an army. I will not do that to her though and all of Camelot knows it. She is my dear sister, the woman I love most in this world. I am trusting you with her, and make no mistake, if you ever dare harm her I will not stop until you’ve experienced a pain worse than death. There will be no where that is safe for you to hide, for I will personally search for you until you are found. Is this understood?”

  
There is no fear in Gwaine’s eyes, just an understanding that gives Robb hope. “You would not have to, for if I ever hurt Sansa I would fall upon my own sword. Your sister is dear to me. She is the greatest woman I have ever met. She’s been beaten and broken by those around her and she still lives on, despite all the sacrifice forced upon her. I will protect her with my life and should I fail I will die myself, for she is my heart and soul in physical form. I have known her for seven years and while it is improper of me to say I know myself to be in love with her. I will never leave her, not today or tomorrow or if she were to be burned across her face or fall from a tower and be crippled for life. I will always love her. I am forever hers,” Gwaine promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aegon arrives next chapter. He was going to arrive this one but this felt like the perfect place to end this chapter.


	48. Aegon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran learns the truth

**Chapter 48 - Aegon**

The Lord of Harrenhal lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the gates of Camelot. He and his traveling companion are ready to part ways. Ever since the accusation of taking Sansa’s son to his bed he hasn’t been able to properly converse with the man. It’s made for a dull and awkward trip and he’ll be happy to be done with it.

A small band of knights greet him at the edge of the town and lead him straight inside the gates where his brother, good-sister, sister, and Sansa stand waiting to welcome him. He grins cockily as he quickly dismounts his horse. He goes straight for his sister first, sweeping Elizabeth up and into his arms. She laughs as she kisses his cheek. He kisses hers in return before turning to his good-sister. He is not as flashy in his affection for her, instead kissing her hand and complementing her appearance.

“Brother,” Jon says with a grin as the two exchange a quick embrace.

“Jon, the married life suits you well. Do you thank your lovely wife for settling for you every day? You should,” Aegon japes, before turning to look at Sansa. She is probably plainer than he’s ever seen her, dressed in a simple brown riding dress with her hair down to blow in the wind, but she is more beautiful than he remembers. Her eyes are still soft and broken, but her smile looks truer than it has in a long time and it makes his heart warm.

“Lovely Sansa, it is been so long,” he says with a grin, sweeping her up into the air like he did his sister. Her laughter is sweeter than honey as she smiles down at him. There is love in her eyes and for a moment he can pretend it is more than sisterly affection. She views him as a brother, same as she does Jon and Bran.

“You saw me not four moons ago at the celebration of the Queen’s nameday,” she counters, an enchanting smile still on her face.

“Of course Sansa, four whole moons. I thought I might die from the lack of beauty that surrounds me,” he says overdramatically, delighted to see her laugh again.

“Rhaenys is quite beautiful,” she says with amused eyes and a cheerful smile.

“But a sister,” he replies.

“Of course,” she says in reply.

“Lord Aegon, His Majesty extends his condolences that he was unable to greet you in person, but invites you to take your mid-day meal with him and Prince Bran in the King’s Study,” a Stark Guard says.

“Of course,” Aegon agrees, knowing he must now explain to the Princess’s youngest brother exactly why Sansa has been deprived of her son. It is not a conversation he looks forward to having, but one he always anticipated. He just always expected that one day he would have to explain it to Sansa. She will hate him when that day comes. She will hate him for keeping her son from her and allowing her to believe the child dead. She will scream and cry and he will never be allowed to see her again. She will break his heart and tear him apart from within, but that day is not yet upon him and he treasures these moments where she smiles at him like he’s hung the moon.

“Have your evening meal with us in my solar?” Sansa asks, her large sapphire eyes looking almost purple in the sunlight. He looks down at her hand on his arm and he covers it with his own, wishing he could hold it forever. It fits so perfectly beneath his hand and his heart hurts that he cannot have her as his wife. He would do anything for her. She would be his Lady, the Lady of Harrenhal, one of the richest and most beautiful places in all of Camelot. He can offer her more than her knight ever could, but she does not love him, and he must live with that. He will sacrifice his happiness for hers.

“Of course Princess,” he replies with a forced smile before following the guard.

They make it to the King’s Study in little time and the guards outside the door immediately open them to him. Sitting inside is the King, Prince Bran, and Jory. They all watch him with curious eyes and Aegon feels like a caged animal. He takes he only available seat and waits for someone to break the silence.

“Aegon,” Bran finally says, his eyes narrowed and his lips stretched thin.

“Bran,” Aegon returns, wondering if he should just start explaining.

“I believe I have been as patient as I can be, brother,” Bran says to his brother. Robb visibly takes a deep breath before finally opening his mouth to answer his brother’s long time question.

Aegon says nothing as Robb begins with the news a few days before Sansa’s birth, that Lady Roslin and Lord Edmure’s only son was born still. The King continues that unknown to Lady Rhaenys, Jon, Sansa, or Gwaine, their had been multiple attempts on Sansa’s life while she stayed at Harrenhal. Robb saw an opportunity when he heard the news of the death of his cousin and sent a letter to Aegon to switch the two infants in the event that Sansa birthed a boy. Aegon rode out the second day after the birth of the Tully heir and retrieved the child’s corpse, laying it atop blocks of ice. Aegon then poured a potion meant to induce labor in Sansa’s tea which can be mistaken for moon tea if someone does not know much about it. Sansa birthed a healthy son, though he did stop breathing for a moment in Jon’s arms. Aegon then took the opportunity to switch the infants. He had a Targaryen Guard member whom he trusts with his life care for the infant in an abandoned ward of Harrenhal until Aegon could leave under the guise of telling the King in person of the death of his nephew. Aegon arrived at Riverrun a few days later and presented the Heir of Camelot to Roslin, who had agreed to raise the boy as her own.

Bran is silent for a long moment after Robb finishes his story.

“Why was Sansa never told?” Bran asks, his dark eyes narrowed in on his brother.

“We believe the one who ordered the death of the Heir is Her Grace, Queen Morgana,” Aegon finally says. He almost cringes when the Prince snaps his neck to look at him. He looks positively livid.

“What proof have you of this accusation?” Bran demands, flames dancing behind his eyes.

“My wife has displayed an increasing rate of recklessness. She ran away from Camelot when she was Sansa’s only protection, she slaughtered knights that turned for us in the invasion, it is highly believed it was she that murdered Arthur, and she was livid when I declared that Sansa’s son would be my heir before our own children.”

****  
“You accuse her for that ?” Bran asks, anger in his voice as he rises from his seat. “From what I’ve heard it was difficult to know who was truly on our side or not. What were they doing? And I left Sansa here, do you damn me for it? She was the best weapon you had to save our sister. She knew the castle’s weak spots and she knew how the army would fight. What proof have you that she murdered Arthur? Even if she did, you know as well as I that Sansa murdered Cersei, who was of more value to us then Arthur was. Sansa could have started another war had she been caught. I do not blame her, for what Cersei did was cruel, but do you damn Sansa? Morgana has ever reason to want that child Sansa carried dead, she sacrificed the only family she’d ever known to protect us. The child is a bastard of Uther, you can understand why she would not want to chance the child growing to become like him or Arthur. Still, I hear over and over no proof of Morgana’s involvement. Do not punish Sansa for theories. Tell her of her son within a moon’s turn or I will,” Bran hisses angrily, turning on his heel and exiting the study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have we been quick to judge Morgana?


	49. Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin returns home to Camelot

**Chapter 49 - Merlin**

Home, all he wants is to go home. He’s been gone almost a year, under Robb’s command to assist a band of Camelot knights in quieting rebellion on the border. A part of Merlin suspects that Robb knows he is a sorcerer. He’s grateful the King has not demonized magic the way Uther did, but still he was sent away.

He misses everyone, Sansa and Gwen most of all. As he lays in the camp site, only a day’s ride from Camelot, he removes a letter, yellowed at the edges and wrinkled.

_Dear Merlin,_ __

 

_It has been lonely few months. Harrenhal is beautiful and I almost wish to stay here forever, but I miss Bran, you, and Gwen. I miss Gwen’s constant chatter as she brushes my hair. I miss the fear that pools in my stomach as I watch Bran climb the tallest of Camelot’s towers. Most of all I miss you though. You were one of few who was not only an ally but a friend. I will never forget those winter blue roses you grew just for me. I know it was not easy to make them blossom so far south. I do not think I ever thanked you properly._

_How is the capital? Jon tells me so little for fear the stress of court will affect my pregnancy, despite the assurances from the physicians that it will not. I find myself bored here. Rhaenys is a lovely companion but she is Jon’s family, not mine. Aegon takes me for walks about the Godswood and lets me sit beside him on the piano bench when he plays. He is a wonderful man and I know one day he will make some Lady very happy. I want to see him happy._

_Did you know that Jon and my cousin Corrine have been exchanging letters? I know Jon has always been particularly fond of her but I was not aware she felt the same. I hope something will come of it. Jon has been so forlorn as of late. He mourns the death of his mother and father and I fear he will allow the sadness to overcome him. I pray to all the gods my child will give him some peace. He is almost as excited as I. He and Gwaine both dote on me as if it is their child that grows in my belly. I feel so blessed to have them both, for my child will never know what it is like to be fatherless. Rhaenys has started stitching a blanket for them. She works on it every spare moment. Aegon is creating a piece for my child, something the singers will sing at each of their namedays. He says it is a song of ice and fire. I cannot wait to hear it._ __

_Write me soon Merlin, all about Camelot and the court, but most of all write me of you. I miss you so painfully much. You have always been good to me and I will never forget it._

 

_Deepest Regards,_

__

_Sansa Stark_

_House Stark and Tully_

_Lady of Winterfell_

_Princess of Camelot_

Sansa wrote it to him only a month before the death of her son. The girl that wrote the letter is so different from what she’s become. He’s heard things since he’s left, terrible things that make him sick to his stomach. In quieting the rebellion, the easiest way to get under the skin of the Camelot Armymen was to whisper the rumors of the capital, particularly the ones that surround Sansa.

The rebels were vial in their words. They whispered that Princess Sansa murdered her babe for what it’s father did to her. They called her the Mother of Dead Kings and Kinslayer. Others said that as she was once meant to be Queen she seduced her brother, hoping that he would one day set his bride aside and wed her so she may rule as she’d always been meant to. Some claimed she was even a witch, that it was she that slaughtered Arthur and then the son she shared with Uther.

Not all the rebels had hated Sansa however. Some had whispered that it was the Queen Morgana, filled with rage when her husband announced that Sansa’s son of Pendragon and Stark that would one day rule the throne. Some say she is the one that became a witch and cursed Sansa’s son to be born dead. The coldness between the Queen and the King’s sister is legendary and fuels the rumors.

“Merlin!” his apprentice calls to him, shaking Merlin out of his thoughts. Merlin had been surprised to find him amongst the rebels, but had quickly taken the young man under his wing.

“What?” he asks in annoyance, folding the letter and tucking it away in his tunic.

“Time to go,” the man replies with a cocky smile as he mounts his horse.

“Of course,” Merlin replies, realizing that it is light out once again and that everything is mostly packed. Quickly he rolls up his cot and secures it to his horse before mounting himself.

The ride is mostly silent, with a few knights conversing with one another. It is times like these that make Merlin wish for Percival, Leon, Elyan, and Gwaine. He misses them all, but he will soon see Elyan and Gwaine where he will never see Percival or Leon. His heart aches for how it used to be.

__

_Nine Years Ago - Camelot_

“May I go with Merlin to visit his mother?” nine year old Sansa asks her father early one morning as they break their fast with the royal family like they do most mornings.

Merlin would have choked had he had anything in his mouth. He had casually mentioned he was going to visit his mother to the girl while he polished Arthur’s boots.

“Sansa, that is very far away,” Lord Stark says to his only daughter.

“Beric, Jory, and the knights would protect me father… please?” she asks him, her eyes wide and sweet. Merlin catches the look of slight annoyance Arthur casts her, but there is a sparkle of amusement in the prince’s eyes that make Merlin think that maybe their marriage will not be a doomed one.

“I am not sure your King would be comfortable allowing you to go so far my dear,” Ned replies again, trying to kindly tell his daughter no.

Morgana laughs from the side and Merlin smiles as well. Lord Stark immediately realizes his mistake as Sansa (still so small for her age) climbs out of her seat and walks around the table to Uther. She looks up at him with her sweetest smile as she carefully reaches her arms up to  him. The man, ever so charmed by her, picks her up with ease and sets her on his lap.

“May I go Your Grace?” she asks, her head tilted just right and her eyes wide and innocent. She has the act down to a science Merlin thinks.

“Of course Sansa, whatever you wish. I will have a party put together for you and you may go.”

“Thank you Your Grace,” she says with a large smile as he sets her on the floor. Merlin quickly takes her hand and escorts her along with Gwen to help her pack.

The party is ready to go only a few hours later. Sansa kisses her family (and Morgana) goodbye before they start their journey.

Before long Sansa is asleep against Leon’s chest. The knight laughs, kissing the top of her head as they make their way East.

“She will always have her way,” Percival says with a smile.

“The little Queen will have the court wrapped around her finger by her eleventh birthday at this rate,” Gwaine laughs.

They continue to jape and jest until she awakens. The trip takes a full moon’s turn with her, but none of them mind. They enjoy themselves. They toss her around and spin her in circles and make her laugh louder than is proper. They bond with one another, all of them together and to her.

_Present - Village of Camelot_

Merlin shakes himself out of the memory to realize that hours have passed and that they have started through the village. He’s happy to see it again, to hear the people and spell the cooking bread.

“Merlin!” a voice calls. He turns his head to see Sansa standing in the village market. She is with Corrine, Elizabeth, Gwen, the twins, and a band of Stark Guards. He laughs to himself, dismounting his horse to greet the Princess of Camelot. Seeing her again is like seeing a ghost. There is sweetness in her eyes and a laugh on her lips. She does not look like the same woman he left behind. She looks younger and more youthful.

“Sansa,” he says warmly as the red haired beauty throws her arms around him.

“Merlin,” she gasps, “I have missed you so much.”

****  
“And I you Princess, and I you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's back!


	50. Morgana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana learns a secret everyone has been trying to hide.

**Chapter 50 - Morgana**

The Queen of Camelot sits in silence as her maidservant brushes her hair in light and even strokes. She takes the rare silence to observe her appearance in the looking glass. Her black hair shines in the candlelight but her famed beauty seems pale. Her under eyes are dark from the nightmares that keep her up all night and there are deep lines etched in her face. She no longer looks like a Queen, not that she feels like one anyway. Robb so rarely allows her to do anything anymore. Ever since the death of Sansa’s son he has cut her off. He never shares her bed, leading the people to call her the Barren Queen. He gives all Queenly duties to Sansa or sometimes Corrine, but never to her. She wants to hate him for it, but she cannot for she loves him too dearly. It’s easier to hate Sansa, because Sansa is everything Morgana’s ever wanted to be. She is beautiful and the woman Robb loves most in the world. Sansa has the love of the people and the knights alike. People bend over backward to accommodate her. She does not hate Sansa though, not really. She spent too much time loving Sansa. She still wants Sansa to be happy.

“All done Your Grace, is their anything else I may assist you with?” her handmaiden, Nimueh, asks as she sets the silver brush on the vanity.

“No,” Morgana replies sadly, “you may go.”

“As you wish Your Grace, may the gods bless you with peaceful rest,” Nimueh replies, dropping into a curtsey before disappearing out the door. Morgana nods to herself, rising from the stool to make her way to her bed. It is the Queen’s bed, the same one Cersei Lannister once slept on when Uther didn’t call her to his own bed. She thinks maybe she understands Cersei just a little bit more now. The woman was lonely, Morgana gets that now, married to a man she’d fancied herself in love with only for him to beat her and toss her aside like she was nothing.

She climbs into the bed, wipes the tears from her eyes and falls into dreamworld.

_Sansa is sitting at a table, surrounded by Robb, Aegon, and Jory. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. Her ice blue eyes are livid. Aegon attempts to reach out to her but she pulls herself away violently. She rises from the chair and backs away from them as if she can no longer trust them._

__

_“I trusted you!” Sansa screams._

__

_“Sansa, you must understand…” Aegon starts, but she doesn’t let him finish._

__

_“I took him from me! You made me trust you and you took the most precious part of me. I hate you, ALL OF YOU!”_

The dream dissolves away but they don’t stop coming.

The Great Hall is filled with people. Sansa is standing before the two thrones, dressed in a gown of the darkest gold. Her hair is pinned back and there is a crown resting on her head. She is stunning, smiling out at the crowd.

_“Queen Regent Sansa Stark, of House Stark, of Winterfell.”_

__

_“May she be happy and blessed by the gods.”_

__

_A man walks down the center aisle. His back is the only view, but he looks like Robb. His red hair gleams in the sunlight. He wears a cloak split down the middle. On one half is the sigil of House Stark, on the other is the sigil of House Pendragon._

__

_“Prince Eddard Pendragon-Stark, of House Stark and Pendragon, of Winterfell and Camelot.”_

__

_“May he be happy and blessed by the gods.”_

Morgana’s eyes snap open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Morgana the evil one? Maybe. Or is something more going on?


	51. Robb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb bonds with his sister

**Chapter 51 - Robb**

It’s late in the night and Robb couldn’t be happier than he is this moment, laying beside Sansa in a clearing in the forest. The grass beneath them is soft as a pillow and the air is warmer than furs. It’s nearly silent, only the wind rustling through the trees and the soft sounds of Grey Wind sleeping a few feet away along with one of the female direwolves from the litter.

It’s nice bonding with Sansa. Ever since Morgana’s nameday celebration she has opened her heart to him, seen him as her brother for the first time. He wishes everything could stay as it is right now. For the first time Sansa’s eyes are warm and inviting and he cannot bear the thought of her returning to the sullen girl he’s known for the past five years.

“Robb?” Sansa asks, turning on her side and propping her head up with her hand.

“Yes sister?” he answers, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Are you in love with Corrine?”

The question is so unexpected that the King doesn’t answer for a moment. He stares at Sansa, eyes narrowed and slightly curious. He’s been so careful. Jon doesn’t know so how does she? Corrine doesn’t know. No one but Elizabeth knows and she has no reason to tell Sansa. Elizabeth has never done anything without a reason.

“What makes you ask that?”

“You are deflecting the question,” Sansa tells him, though their is no judgement or disappointment in her eyes or voice.

“I am,” he finally admits after a long pause.

“Does it hurt to see her with Jon?” she asks, curiosity in her eyes.

“Why do you ask me so many questions sister?” he asks in return. A sweet smile crosses her face as she rolls over so her body lays against his and her hair falls into his face; if they were not brother and sister he would think she means to kiss him.

“I want to know what being in love is like. Elizabeth is not unhappy with Lord Jaime but she is not in love with him. And I have seen the way you look at Corrine. You look at her how Uther used to when he spoke of Queen Ygraine. It is love, I know it,” she says, a smile stretching across her beautiful face.

“Why do you wish to know about love?” he asks, wondering if she could have possibly realized the love between herself and Gwaine.

“I just do,” she replies, laying her head against his chest and allowing him to wrap an arm around her. She wishes he could hold her like this forever, protect her from the world and more importantly, the truth.

“I have a present for you,” he whispers into her hair, changing the subject.

“A present?” she asks. She sits up and turns to look at him, her eyes large and confused.

He nods to her, gesturing to the large direwolf beside his own. He had originally planned to gift the creature to his wife, but as she still will not accept them, he’s deemed it time to give her away, to a much truer Stark than Morgana will ever be.

Sansa’s mouth drops open, tears pooling in her eyes as she stares down at the sleeping creature.

“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning towards him to press her lips to his cheek. Her lips are barely there at all before she sweeps away to fawn over her sleeping direwolf. There is mirth in her eyes and a smile on her lips. He wishes desperately that he could freeze this moment. Sansa has had so much heartache and agony that he is reminded of his sister’s strength in surviving it. She should have never needed to be so strong. He doesn’t want that for her. He wants her to sing and laugh and play with her own children. He wants to see her play with Eddie in the Godswood and wring her hands in the stands at his first match. He wants all that for her…

****  
But he is the one that took it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but unfortunatley there will be another one. I start my freshmen year at college on Monday so updates are more likely to be once or twice a week. Love you all! I love hearing from you. Stay safe this school year.


	52. Nimueh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The true threat is revealed.

**Chapter 52 - Nimueh**

“He loves her more than me,” the Queen says suddenly.

Nimueh looks up at her Queen, frowning at her. The handmaiden is well aware of the fact, but she doesn’t understand why it comes as such a surprise to her Queen. They have known this for so long. The King has an almost unhealthy obsession with his sister. It makes Nimueh laugh that it destroys Morgana so. The Queen had loved Robb in earnest and she’d been heartbroken when he cast her aside in favor of his sister’s company. The handmaiden supposes she should be thanking the King, as if it wasn’t for his stupidity Nimueh would have been unable to unlock the wickedness inside Morgana. She still remembers the the day her Queen thought to kill the babe that grew in Sansa’s belly.

_Seven Years Ago - Camelot_

“He has named her child heir to the throne, boy or girl, prince or princess. He no longer shares my bed. I am his Queen and he names his niece or nephew the heir to the throne! What have I done to deserve this? I left the only family I have ever known to protect Sansa and avenge Lord Stark! I told him what to do! I gave him strength! I told him the weaknesses in Camelot’s defences! I gave him the loyalty of the South!” Morgana screams, her eyes flashing with danger.

Nimueh smiles to herself, knowing it won’t take much to mold this Queen into a sole ruler. As the daughter of Uther Pendragon, she has claim. The Queen already had her brother killed and if she can somehow convince the woman to kill her nephew or niece, than the Houses loyal to House Pendragon will rally around her to make her Queen. First though, she needs Morgana to order the death, preferably while Sansa still holds the child in her belly. Nimueh knows that the Houses will not flock to Morgana so long as Sansa lives, too many people love her.

“Poor child, a babe born of rape, it must be so stressful. It cannot be good for Princess Sansa, any of it. I pray she does not lose the child, it would devastate her,” Nimueh says as she readies the bed for her Queen, keeping an ear strained to listen. She smiles when she hears Morgana freeze in her tracks.

“It would be a favor to Camelot would it not?” Morgana suddenly asks.

“Your Grace?” Nimueh asks with feigned confusion, but when she turns she sees the dots connecting in her Queen’s eyes.

“Uther was a monster and Arthur sent innocent men to their death, both Lord Stark and one-hundred-and-fifty of his Guard. This child is half Pendragon, they may be kind like their mother but they could be their father reborn. Once the child becomes of age it will be too late, we need to act now, while the babe is still vulnerable. The child must die.”

The blue eyed handmaiden smiles.

_Present - Camelot_

“Yes my Queen, Sansa has done this to him. She whispers in his ear, manipulates him at every turn. You raised her and cared for her and she first tried to take your children’s birthright and when you thwarted her plans she now tries to take your crown,” the handmaiden lies with ease, “She rules your husband through his heart and his cock.” She peers over her Queen’s shoulder to see the King and the Princess walking through the gates, wrapped in each other’s arms with leaves in their hair and their clothes disheveled. It could not have been a more perfect sight for the Queen to witness. “Look at her, by his side with leaves in her hair as if it is her right. She means to take your throne, rule beside her brother like the Targaryens did before Rhaegar discontinued the tradition. If the King puts a bastard in her belly you know that he will set you aside and wed her. The people love her, they will forgive her and you will be forgotten. You mustn’t let her, you are the daughter of Uther Pendragon, the rightful heir to the throne. You will be a better ruler than your husband. Children are not their father’s, as you are not Uther and Robb is not Lord Stark.”

“I have given him everything, done everything for him. How dare he do this to me,” Morgana hisses, tears in her eyes.

Nimueh smirks as she lean back, disappearing out the door and down the hall. She does not stop until she is outside Merlin’s chambers. She knocks once, waiting for her lover to answer. The door swings open and she is greeted by a handsome man with raven curls and ice blue eyes.

“Nimueh,” he breaths, sweeping her into his arms.

“She is ready,” she whispers against him like a sigh.

“Is she?”

****  
“Soon,” she replies, smirking up at him. Soon the Queen will kill the King and his dreadful little sister and Morgana will be the soul ruler. She will be easy to manipulate, to control as they help her run her father’s kingdom into the ground. It will be the ultimate revenge against Uther. A new King and Queen will rise from the ashes and the world will be theirs. “We will have the justice we deserve Mordred, soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the TV show Morgana becomes unhinged so I am trying to stay true to that character. Morgana is not without fault as this person is who she truely is, but without Nimueh she might have never gotten there. But Nimueh might be in for a surprise.
> 
> Sansa is in danger, again, and so is her son. Next chapter she will learn her son is still alive.


	53. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa learns that her son is still alive.

**Chapter 53 - Sansa**

“My Princess,” Gwen calls, entering the Queen’s Garden with a smile tugging on the corner of her lips.

“Yes Gwen?” Sansa asks as she turns from her family to face the brunette.

“I apologize for the interruption, but the King wishes for you to come the King’s Study,” Gwen tells her.

Sansa furrows her eyebrows, turning back to her brother, cousin, and niece and nephew. Bran looks uneasy and Jon seems as confused as her. Her eldest brother isn’t in the habit of having her summoned for meetings without advanced notice and her other elder brother is looking terribly guilty. After a moment of contemplation she nods to Gwen and turns her attention to Lyanna, seated in her lap, and Edmure, standing by her skirts.

“Must you go Aunt Sansa?” her niece asks her sweetly.

“I will not be gone long Lya, Ned,” Sansa replies, leaning down to place soft kisses to their foreheads. “Sit with your father and Uncle Bran, Sir Gwaine will be here soon to play with you and I will be back soon after. Save me a lemon cake.” She gives them a sweet smile before following Gwen out of the garden.

The maid disappears once Sansa arrives at the King’s Study. She barely has a chance to ask the guards at the door to announce her when Jory opens the door.

“Sansa,” he greets her, leaning forward to lightly kiss her cheek. There is sorrow in his eyes and Sansa is instantly frightened. What has happened? Why is Jory so upset? When he steps aside to let her inside she sees Aegon and her eldest brother sitting at a table. Aegon’s eyes are worried and he is biting his cheek. Robb looks guilty and he won’t meet her eye. What is it they are so afraid to tell her? They’re scaring her. She has never seen them look so distressed. Has something happened to Elizabeth? No, then Aegon would not be there. Rhaenys? No, then Jon would be with her.

“Sansa, would you sit? There is something we must tell you,” Robb tells her.

Sansa sits, the door shutting behind her as Jory moves to sit with them at the table. He is the most composed of the three men, but it does nothing to comfort her. Her only comfort is knowing that Jory has been at her side since she was an infant.

“Robb, what is it?” Sansa asks, her armor of courtesy seeping in. It may be eight years since the war but she still remembers that courtesy is a woman’s second best weapon. If Cersei taught her anything she taught her that. She will not admit that Robb is scaring her.

“Sansa, you must understand that what we did was for the best.”

“Robb, what are you talking about?” she asks, frustrated. Why won’t he just tell her whatever this is about?

“Sansa, your son, the crowned Prince Eddard Pendragon… he lives,” Aegon tells her.

The world stops around her at his words. He must be lying. It must be some cruel joke they’re playing on her. They would not do this to her. They would not do this to her surely. Robb loves her dearly she knows, he would never allow her son to be stolen from her. How could he have even done it? He was in the Capital when she birthed her son. She held the babe in her arms. He was still, she knows it, she saw it. Who could have taken her son away…? She whips her head around to Aegon, who looks exceptionally guilty.

“You…” she whispers, tears streaming down her face and fire burning in her eyes.

“Sansa…” he whispers, tears in his own eyes as he reaches a hand towards her, but she jerks away violently. She rises from her seat and backs away, glaring at them hatefully. How could they do this to her? They listened to her scream and cry for her son and this whole time he has been alive?

“I trusted you!” she screams, her body shaking as she continues to back away. Her back hits the door and Aegon rises from his seat, his eyes desperate as he reaches for her.

“Sansa, you must understand…” Aegon starts but she doesn’t let him finish. He doesn’t deserve the right to explain himself. He stole her son from her before she even had the chance to hold him. She will never forgive him, or any of them.

“You took him from me! You made me trust you and you took the most precious part of me. I hate you ALL OF YOU!” she screams, tears spilling down her cheeks as she opens the door and runs from the room.

She doesn’t stop till she is in the Queen’s Garden. Jon and Bran instantly rise and Ned and Lya hide beneath the stone benches.

“Tell me you didn’t know!” Sansa screams to her cousin.

She knows the answer before he even has a moment to answer her. His eyes are wide and he is worried instantly by her tears. She knows he did not know and it is only then she allows herself to truly crumble. She falls into Jon’s arms, clinging to him for dear life.

“Sansa, sweet girl, tell me what it is. Has someone hurt you? Tell me their name and I will kill them myself,” Jon promises her as he holds her close.

“Jory Cassel, Robb Stark, and Aegon Targaryen,” she tells him, pulling away to look him in the eye. He is instantly shocked but she’s happy when he says nothing and waits for her to explain. “My baby is alive Jon, they took him from me, stole him from me before I ever even held him.”

“What? Sansa I am sorry, I will find your son, I will bring him back to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will Sansa do now? Her son has never known her and he views Roslin as his mother. She can't take him from her and there are people still out to kill him.


	54. Jon

**Chapter 54 - Jon**

Jon stares down at the red haired beauty asleep on his bed. He curses his cousin and brother for what they have done to her. He doesn’t understand how they could do this. What possible good could have come from taking the boy away from her? He’s spent the past four hours holding his cousin as she wept. He’s done it far too many times in the past six years. She’s only just started to smile again and now he is afraid for her. Sansa has only just learned to trust again and now it has been destroyed. She is lost and confused and when she wakes she will be hell bent on finding her son. He prays his brother and cousin have kept him safe, it is the least they could have done.

“Jon,” Corrine whispers, entering their chamber quickly and quietly. She looks just as beautiful as the day he married her. She is dressed in a red gown that sweeps down her body and is laced with black. The three headed dragon is printed down the side of her skirt and her hair is twisted into a complex side braid. She looks like a princess instead of a Lady wed to a second son.

“Corrine,” he replies, “where are the children?”

“I left them with Eryan and Theon. They will watch the children while you and I figure this out,” Corrine assures him, stepping into his space and draping her arm across his shoulders while his own goes up to wrap around her waist, “I have also sent a rider to retrieve Sir Gwaine from the border.”

“Thank you, she will need him I am sure,” he says with a sigh as he turns back to look at the sleeping girl. Even in sleep there is grief in her features. Her jaw is clenched and her eyes are squeezed shut. She’s not slept well since the supposed death of her son. “Will you stay with her? I need to speak with my brother and cousin.”

“Of course,” she agrees.

“I will be back soon. Call on Gwen and have her pack Sansa’s things. I am taking Sansa away from here, she has not been to Winterfell since she was a babe. I will speak with Lord Beric, have him put together a party once I am done with her brother and my own.”

“You have not failed her Jon, you promised to keep her safe and you have. Now you will find her the son that was so terribly taken from her.”

“I love you Corrine,” he tells her, pressing his lips to her before leaving their chamber.

To walk calmly feels impossible. The anger courses through his veins and makes his blood run hot. He does not understand what his brother and cousin were thinking, keeping Sansa’s son from her. Has she not suffered enough? His brother is in love with her, has been since she first arrived at his side at Harrenhal. Is this some sick revenge because her child will never belong to him?

He all but throws open the door to the King’s Study, where is brother, cousin, and Jory still sit. Aegon sits with an expression of sadness and guilt while both Robb and Jory seem deep in thought, with neutral expressions.

“Where is he?” Jon demands when they look up at him. He will find Sansa’s son and he will return the boy to her.

“Jon, you don’t understand…” Aegon begins but Jon cuts him off.

“Don’t, I cannot bear to look at you. Tell me where the boy is or I swear I will take Sansa away to Winterfell forever and she will never return.”

“Jon, someone is trying to kill the boy, which is why we hid him from everyone.”

“I do not care, Robb. Tell me where the boy is, now.”

Robb sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He is at Riverrun, with Lady Roslin. Her son was born still so the babes were switched. Lord Eddard Tully is in truth, Prince Eddard Pendragon.”

Jon nods, everything suddenly making sense.

_Four Years Ago - Riverrun_

“Will you please stop fidgeting my Lord? Lady Tully has accepted your marriage proposal to her daughter and Lady Corrine is ecstatic with the match,” Beric begs from his side.

Jon huffs, turning to face the handsome man that looks as if he were the product of Lannister and Tully. He’s spent little time with Lord Beric, as the man has always prefered Sansa’s company. He doesn’t know why the man volunteered to accompany him, but he’s happy for it just the same.

“Lord Jon!” Lady Roslin greets when they arrive at the Water Gate. They are all standing together, Roslin, Corrine, and Corrine’s new brother Eddard, named for both the Uncle he never met and the royal boy whom was born still. Corrine carries the babe possessively in her arms, but there is a smile so bright when she looks up at Jon that it makes all his nerves and fear melt away. She loves him, truly loves him, he realizes. This is not duty, it is love.

_Present - Camelot_

Jon speaks quickly with Lord Beric, who instantly agrees that Sansa should be taken North for a time, before returning to his chambers where Corrine assists Gwen in packing a trunk. Merlin is there as well, standing over Sansa and murmuring words Jon does not understand. He smiles at the pair, happy that Sansa has so many who love her.

“Jon,” his wife says softly, walking towards him with the sweetest of smiles. His mouth goes dry when he realizes that he must tell her. Her brother is not her brother and he doesn’t know how she will react to the news. Then he goes stiff when another thought enters his mind. What if she knew?

“Jon, where is he? Where have they hidden the boy?”

****  
“Riverrun, Prince Eddard has been disguised as Eddard Tully, your brother.”


	55. Gwaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine learns the prince is alive.

**Chapter 55 - Gwaine**

The rider appeared at dawn, they left shortly after. A normal ride to Camelot is a day, but Gwaine made it in nearly half the time. As he runs through the castle, the information weighs heavy on his heart.

_“Prince Eddard is alive and Princess Sansa has just learned of this.”_

He held the corpse of Sansa’s son, cried over him. How can he be alive? How is it possible that her son is alive? Why would they do this to her? That baby was the only thing that kept her sane after the death of her father, her rape, and her humiliation. When the child was taken away she began to self destruct.

_Six Years Ago - Camelot_

Her eyes are glazed over and the harsh winds whip her hair into her face and wrap her dress around her legs. He’s frozen in place as he stares at her, the warmth leaving his body and fear taking over.

“Sansa,” he whispers, staring at her.

“I can’t,” she whispers, no hysteria or tears, just a cold, hard acceptance of something he doesn’t know. She’s standing on the stone edge of a window in the tallest tower. There is the beginnings of a bad storm in the background. The sky is a dark gray and the winds have already blown over a few wagons.

“Sansa, don’t do this,” he begs her, tears in his eyes as he looks at her. He loves her, he’s always loved her. He wanted to raise her child with her, be the father the baby would never have. When the child lay dead in his arms his heart had broken. He’d screamed and begged the gods to bring him back. He still cries at night over the loss of the child. He spent the months after the war whispering stories to her stomach and making her as comfortable as possible. When he learned that the boy he’d considered a son had stopped breathing, he’d cried when he looked at the cradle that the prince was meant to sleep in. He is suffering with her, but he understands that this just might be her final blow. She’s been tormented, humiliated, raped, and the deaths seem to never stop: her father, Vayon, Leon, Percival, and all those other knights that died when they switched sides to protect her. Each death was a knife to her heart. She cries over all of them, especially Percival, who died in her arms, and Leon, who called her Little Queen. The death of her son has crippled her. She’s done nothing but cry for the boy that was so terribly taken from her. He understands why she wants to do this, he just prays to all the gods that she _won’t_.

“What do I have any more?” she asks, her eyes wet as the bore into him. It’s a valid question, one she’s actually asking. She’s telling him that if he can give her something, anything to hold on to, she’ll step down.

“You have a family who wants the world for you. Jon cares for you so much, Bran needs you, Jory cares about you as if you were his family, and I… Men died for you Sansa, good men, who loved you so much they didn’t care if they’d have to sacrifice their lives. Don’t let it be in vain, please Sansa, step down,” he begs her, reaching out a hand towards her.

She looks at it, tears silently slipping down her face as the storm picks up behind her.

“He’s gone Gwaine, my little boy is gone,” she whispers, her chest heaving as sobs rack through her body and she falls forward, into his arms.

He holds her close, vowing to never let her go. One day she will smile again, just not tonight, or for a very long time.

__

_Present - Camelot_

He doesn’t bother to put away his horse. He runs straight into the castle. He sees Merlin, who calls out for him but he barely slows down until Merlin shouts something.

“She’s not in her chambers!” Merlin shouts after him, “Follow me.”

He does. Together Gwaine and Merlin run through the castle, people parting to let them pass. They both stop outside a room that has been sealed for many years. It is the nursery that was meant for Eddard, the child both he and Sansa had loved and they’d thought dead.

He opens the door, Merlin staying behind.

The room is larger than he remembers. The room is dusty and he can tell it was never entered after the doors were shut. The large and thick blue curtains are open for the first time in years, casting light into the room. There is a large rug that takes up most of the floor, toys put away on shelves, and the large cradle he’d had made in the center of the room. Sansa is sitting beside it on a piano stool. Her back is to him and the light is highlighting her hair. She doesn’t look back to see who entered and her shoulders are shrugged forward.

“Sansa,” he whispers.

****

****  
She doesn’t turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Gwaine not the best?


	56. Roslin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Tully learns that Sansa and Corrine have both learned the true identity of Lord Eddie "Tully"

**Chapter 56 - Roslin**

_Mother,_

__

_Tell me it is not true, tell me my brother is not dead. What have you done? Why have you done this? How could you lie to everyone? How could you lie to me, mother? I have been trying to understand ever since Jon told me. Tell me this is a mistake, please. How could you not trust me enough to tell me the truth? I would have kept it from Jon if you’d asked but you lied to me. I held him in my arms and called him brother when he nothing of the sort. He is my blood, I know, and I love him as dearly as Sansa loves my own children. Still you should have told me, if anything to mourn my brother._

__

_Sansa knows now. She knows the truth and it will not be long before she comes looking for him. I am coming to see you and Eddie. We have much we need to discuss._

__

_Corrine Targaryen_

_House Targaryen, Tully, and Frey_

_Lady of Harrenhal_

_Lady of  Riverrun_

“When did she write this?” Roslin demands, glaring at the rider as she waves the letter at him. She can’t breath. Her chest hurts. Sansa knows. Sansa knows. She will come and take Eddie away.

_Six Years Ago - Riverrun_

“You’ve done it my Lady,” her handmaiden whispers as she runs a hand over Roslin’s sweaty forehead, “you have a son.”

“A boy? I have a son?” Roslin cries, tears in her eyes. A son, a son, he may be gone but she’s finally given Edmure a son, an heir. She loves Corrine, more than life, but a Lady’s duty is to give her husband a son. He never seemed concerned with the idea of having a son, more than happy to leave Riverrun to his daughter, but she was still never able to get passed the fact that she hadn’t done her duty as a wife. She just wishes Edmure were here too- why can’t she hear him? Where is her son? Why isn’t he crying? Baby’s cry. Why isn’t her son crying?

She hears murmurs and her handmaiden’s face drains of color.

“What? What is it? Where is my son? Why does he not cry?” she demands, panic rising as she tries to move so she may see her son.

“My Lady,” her handmaiden whispers, tears clouding the woman’s eyes as she looks down at Roslin.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Where is he?”

“He was born still Lady Roslin,” her handmaiden says gently.

_Present - Riverrun_

She had screamed all night, for the son so cruelly taken from her. She’d been ready to throw herself from the tallest tower when Aegon appeared.

_Six Years Ago - Riverrun_

“With all respect Lord Targaryen, I do not care to have visitors,” Roslin deadpans, glaring at him. She doesn’t want him with her. She just wants to be left alone. She already has to tell her daughter once she arrives, whose face will be aglow with the thought of a new brother or sister. Now she will also need to tell her daughter that her second son, whenever she should marry, will inherit Riverrun and take the Tully name. How can she tell her daughter that she cannot inherit because of stupid laws? How can she tell her daughter that her brother is dead? How can she prepare her daughter for that? To hear that children can die for no reason. The children were lucky in the war, the casualties were the adults, Edmure, Lyanna, Rhaegar, and those knights Sansa had loved so dearly.

“I apologize for this intrusion my Lady, but I am afraid this is a time sensitive issue. For the past five months, there have been multiple attempts on Sansa’s life. At this time Sansa remains unaware of the threats but they have grown more sophisticated over time. The King and I fear that we may not be able to prevent another attack. We need the heir to be safe, and the King and I have devised a plan.”

Roslin’s mouth went dry at the thought of someone hurting Sansa and her baby. The child was innocent, precious, deserving of a chance to live. She can’t let anything happen to that beautiful child that she knows has been Sansa’s heart and soul and strength.

“What can I do to help?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We would like to switch the infants, as both were born boys. We would like to tell the world that the prince died in birth, while in reality, he will be here at Riverrun under the guise of being your son.”

“And Sansa is okay with being away from her son?”

Aegon takes a visible breath, his eyes dark and concerned. “Sansa will not be told of this. She will believe that her son died in birth.”

“You’re telling me that you are taking Sansa’s son from her? Do you understand the amount of pain that will cause her?” Roslin asks, eyes wide.

_Present - Camelot_

She’d done it anyway, desperate for a child. She took him in and raised him to be the heir that lays in a grave marked with the prince’s name. She did to Sansa what the gods did to her. She took away Sansa’s son.

 


	57. Jory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jory remembers the last time Sansa was as cold as steel.

Chapter 57 - Jory

Jory misses the sweet and courteous girl his Princess used to be. He misses her sweet smiles and shy blushes and kind nature. Now something has broken within her, something that started the day Uther took her father’s head. She is not porcelain like she was as a child, or ivory like she was in her captivity with Uther. She is steel, cold, hard, steel. The weather grows colder every passing day with the promise of winter not far off, and even that cannot compare with the cold of her heart. She has lost all faith. She never trusted Uther or Arthur half as much as she trusted Aegon and Robb; but he knows the betrayal that hurt most was his own. He’s been her protector since the day she was placed into her mother’s arms. As a child she would cling to his cloak like most children did their mother’s skirts. She has loved him all her life, and he allowed her son to be taken from her. Not even Gwaine, who rides silently beside her, is immune to her new behavior. Jory watches sadly as all the process Sansa has made, disappears. As the man she loves, reaches across to take her frozen hand, she pulls it away. She does not meet his eye, looking directly forward, her jaw set firm and her eyes as cold as ice.

No one speaks, afraid to upset their Princess. A party of nearly a hundred men, and not a voice to be heard. Instead they cast each other glances.

When they camp for the night, the knights make their princess’s tent. She disappears inside it without a word, dismissing your handmaiden. Gwaine is sour, having received nothing but a chilly reception for days. Jory feels sorry for him, the knight has been nothing but sweet to her and she’s cast him away.

He watches curiously as Jon disappears into her tent. Hopefully her closest companion can talk some sense into her, at least help her realize that Gwaine is not her enemy. Jory doubts it though, even Jon has been the recipient of her frosty treatment.

“I have never seen her like this,” Gwen says as she sits beside him on a rock.

“I have,” Jory replies, his eyes foggy as stares off into the distance, “once.”

_Seven Years Ago - Casterly Rock_

He is her sworn knight, so he stands by her side more often than not. This place is not Harrenhal, where Aegon, Lady Rhaenys, Jon, and all the loyal servants and knights adore Sansa. This place is full of liars and and deceivers. They all, with the exception of Lady Elizabeth and maybe the Imp, want nothing more than to see Sansa suffer. He will not leave her side here, not in this place.

“Princess Sansa,” a sweet voice says from the shadows. Jory takes a step towards it, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He watches with narrowed eyes as Cersei Lannister steps out of the shadows. She looks far too well for all the pain and suffering she has caused. Her dress must be made of the finest silk, and her hair is styled into the latest southern fashion.

“Cersei,” Sansa replies with a nod. Her face is like stone, no emotion displayed. Her lips are stretched thin, as pale as her skin. There is something in her eyes, an anger that boils deep within her. It scares him to see his sweet Princess so vengeful. She is capable of anything at this moment. “I see you’ve done well for yourself.”

“I have,” Cersei says with a smirk, taking a step towards them, “all thanks to the kindness of your brother. I am grateful to him for allowing my freedom.”

Had he not known Sansa her entire life, he would have missed the slight flinch at Cersei’s words.

“Yes, my brother is a good man. He does not allow his mind to be clouded by emotion.” Lie. “You were a business deal, nothing more.”

“Forgive me, your _highness_ , but I failed to give you my sympathies on the death of your son.” Jory glances to Sansa to see flames as red as her hair, filling her eyes. She takes a threatening step towards Cersei, who takes a step back. There is fear in the blonde’s eyes, and Jory doesn’t blame her. Sansa looks like the Stranger come to life at this moment. The girl’s steps are short and menacing as she glares at Cersei Lannister, who stands a good two inches taller than the fourteen year old.

“Sympathies mean _nothing_ ,” Sansa hisses dangerously. Both women have forgotten he is there and Jory is at a loss over what to do. Should he stop Sansa? Or allow her the vengeance she craves? “You started a war to protect yourself and your lover, imagine what I will do over the death of my _son_.”

He loses track of her in the afternoon, by her own doing he’s sure. Later, while he searches for her on the grounds, he hears the screams. He looks up in time to see Cersei fall from the highest tower, and he could swear he saw a flash of red in the window.

_Present - On the road for Riverrun_

Jory grimaces as he turns his eyes to the tent of the Princess. She could have started a war the last time she was like this. What will she do now? He watches, afraid of what’s to come. Jon exists her tent, a flaming red handprint across his cheek. Who will reign her back in this time?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking forever. I had a bit of writers block, and as you can understand, life got in the way of writing. My cousin just moved in with me and I am a full time nanny, leaving little time to write. I hope the next chapter will be out by next week. Enjoy!


	58. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Sansa's head.

**Chapter 58 - Sansa**

Everything is loud, the clatter of chainmail, the trot of the horses, the rustling of leaves, even the wind. It’s cold, but she’s numb to it. Nothing is right, nothing makes sense. Her mind is racing but she can’t understand her own thoughts, she’s gasping for breath but her lungs will not fill. There is no one left, no one she can trust. If Jory, a man she’s adored all her life can betray her like this, than she can trust no one.

What does she have left? She was abandoned by her mother as a child, her betrothed marked her family as traitors, her would-be good-father raped her, her only mother figure has become consumed with jealousy by her, both her brother and protector have stolen her son from her, and that son has spent the past seven years calling another woman mother. Everything’s been taken from her, her father, her innocence, her childhood, her family, and even her child.

“We should camp for the night,” someone says, but she doesn’t know who. She goes through the motions, barely registering anything. It isn’t until she’s standing in her tent, Gwen lighting a candle, that she gathers her bearings.

“Leave me,” she commands coldly.

She pays no attention as Gwen shuffles from the tent. Instead she makes her way towards her trunk, falling to her knees before it. With shaking fingers she opens the clasp, tears in her eyes as she lifts it just enough to pull out an old wollensak. She cannot bring herself to open it.

“Sansa.”

It’s Jon’s voice, but for the first time in a long time, no comfort comes from it. She doesn’t move, not even to turn and look at him. There isn’t anything he can tell her she hasn’t heard. There isn’t anything he can try she hasn’t. She doesn’t want him with her, not as a friend, her cousin, or confidant.

_Seven Years Ago - Casterly Rock_

She stands in the shadows for a moment, observing the blonde woman sitting at the window of the tower. Her blood is boiling with anger and a small trace of fear, but there is something else as well. There is still a part of her, however small, that still wants this terrible woman’s approval. Cersei is the only mother she’s ever known, however terrible she was. Even now, without any title and an enemy of the crown, she sits in the finest gowns that money can buy and she sleeps and eats like a Princess. It doesn’t matter how horrible she is, how many she’s hurt, she’s still survived the consequences, defeated what would have been a certain death because of her name and her family. Sansa isn’t half as strong. Everything that protected Cersei is what destroyed her. She may now be a Princess of the North and Camelot, but at what terrible cost? She’s been ruined, a Princess with no virtue is a burden, not a prize. A girl like her is traded to secure alliances or armies of those that are wealthy but untitled.

“What did I ever do?” she asks, startling the blonde woman. Cersei turns to look at her, a smirk spreading across her face. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me. You were the only mother I had. I spent a fortnight learning how to greet you, practicing every spare moment so that I might please you. Why did you do this to me? I can somehow find it in me to understand why you felt my father needed to die, but why did you try so hard to break me apart? I know it is you that prompted Uther to harm me. I know it is you that whispered in his ear that I should witness my father’s death.”

“My father is not an emotional man. He never once told us he loved us. He was always practical, waiting for just the right moment to grasp power. I was young, in love with the idea of being a Queen. My father had thought to marry me to Arthur, but when Ygraine died he decided to marry me to Uther instead, so that I may influence marriages between Arthur’s children. I did not want to marry a man nearly twice my age, but I was determined to make Uther love me. I was twenty four when we married, and Arthur was thirteen. At the wedding, Uther was kind to me, danced with me. That night he leaned over me and whispered his wife’s name in my ear. The next night he was so angry that I wasn’t his Ygraine, I couldn’t move for a week. I suffered as Uther’s fists rained down on me and his cock pounded into me till I bled. Then one day, three months into my marriage, Arthur came to me with a honey cake he’d baked himself and a book. He laid beside me in the bed and read to me till his voice was raw. You were going to take that away from me, so I cast you aside as a child. When your father saw us, we executed him, but Arthur was still destined to marry you. I was not about to let you live like a Princess when I suffered every day as a Queen. Yes I had him ruin you, but he ruined me more times than that, and more brutally I assure you. Your knights stayed by your side and swore their revenge, but no one comforted me… no one but Arthur.”

Sansa glares at her, tears in her eyes as anger wells inside her. Cersei knew what it was like, knew how horrible it was to feel your own blood on your thighs. She knew and she still put her through it!

“You will never harm me or my family again,” Sansa promises, taking small but decisive steps.

“Isn’t it you that harmed your family? To save you, your brother traded your lovely young cousin to my dear brother. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, how my brother has nearly killed two mistresses. What do you think he will do to your cousin once he grows bored of her? It is not against any law for a husband to murder his wife, your precious King could do nothing even if my dear brother waltzed into the throne room and presented Elizabeth’s body to him on a platter,” Cersei says with a laugh.

Anger burns within Sansa, but it takes her a minute to realize that Cersei is right. An unmarried woman is safe under a protection that her life and virtue are her family’s property, but a married woman is the property of her husband. If Cersei has even half the control over Jaime that she had over Uther, Elizabeth is in danger. Cersei is a vengeful woman, Sansa will not allow it, any of it.

“You will never harm me or my family again,” Sansa repeats, a satisfied smirk on her face as she raises her arms. She doesn’t need to think twice, she doesn’t care that what she’s about to do could spark another war. She will not allow harm to ever come to her family again. She will not allow _Cersei_ to ever come near her family again. She pushes her, hard, and she is delighted to see the look of shock that crosses Cersei’s face as she falls.

Sansa isn’t stupid, she isn’t weak. She runs the minute she fully realizes what she’s done. She cannot be seen. She will not be seen.

_Present - On the road for Riverrun_

“It would be wise of you to leave,” Sansa says coldly, clutching the wollensak tightly.

“Sansa, please, you should have been told of your son, but if you continue on…” his voice fades away as she turns her eyes to him. She is done, tired of all the politics and the courtesy and proprietary. She may not be a child in the eyes of the law, but she is still young, and everything has been taken from her.

“Jon, leave me.”

“Sansa, what was done, was done to protect you. That child, seeing him every day, it would have torn you apart to see the eyes of your rapist…” his voice trails off again, but this time it is because Sansa’s hand has struck him, across his face. He stares at her like it is he that’s been betrayed, and she hates him for it. Who is he to defend those that stole her child from her? She doesn’t remember getting up or going towards him, but she doesn’t regret it. Even though it is a crime for a woman to hit a man, she is a Princess and Jon would never tell. He leaves her tent, and she crumbles to the ground, sobs coursing through her body.

_Eight Years Ago - Camelot_

The look in Uther’s eyes will never leave her. This man that pushes her to her bed isn’t the same man that used to hoist her up in his arms and swing her around the dance floor. This cannot be the man that hosted ball after ball in her name. She sees the man that Cersei sees, the monster that crawls into her bed.

“Your Grace, please, stop, please, don’t!” she screams as he tears at the ties of her dress and pulls at the hems of her skirts. “Uther, please, I am to be your daughter by law. Uther were my father’s friend! You held me at my birth! Please Uther, please!”

**  
**But he does not stop, she feels everything as he situates himself between her legs. He ignores her pleas and her sobs and he takes her virtue without any of the gentleness that even Arthur would have shown her. She shuts down, doing nothing as he thrusts into her. She places her hands gingerly over his, hatred and fear boiling inside her, but she will not continue to scream and squirm like a victim. She is a Lady of Winterfell, she was groomed to be the Queen of Camelot, she will show him no more weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite what you thought? Was it?


	59. Corrine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrine returns home to face her mother

**Chapter 59 - Corrine**

The ride to Riverrun is a long one, but Corrine makes it in record time, a full three days before Sansa and her party can even hope of arriving. She has barely allowed her feet to touch the ground before she is running for the garden, where she knows her mother will be along with Eddard.

She is not wrong. Eddie is seated in the grass, playing with little toy soldiers while her mother sips on tea. He makes Corrine stop in her tracks. She’s met him before, held him in her arms, but now he looks like a whole other boy. She imagines him draped in the colors of Stark and Pendragon, playing in the gardens with Sansa. How many times has she seen Sansa chasing after her own son in the gardens? How many times has she walked into Sansa’s room at night to see the red haired beauty asleep on the floor with a fist full of her own hair as she clutches the blanket Lady Rhaenys stitched for Eddard? It should be Sansa that sits with her tea, watching her son play. It should be Sansa that cares for him and loves him.

Her mother is seated calmly, too calmly. She has stolen the heir to the thrones, the crowned prince thought dead by the Kingdom. She has deprived him of a mother that’s never stopped loving him… and she sits calmly to drink her tea?

“Sister!” Eddie shouts, dropping his toys and running towards her. It’s instinct that causes her to drop to her knees and embrace him tightly.

The feel of him against her, warm and breathing, makes her heart drop and tears enter her eyes. This is Sansa’s _son_ , the baby Sansa had wanted more than anything else in this world. This is the child Sansa had cried for many nights over the years. She wonders, not for the first time since learning that this boy is the heir to throne, how anyone could do this to Sansa? How can they deprive this boy of a mother that loves him so fiercely?

She smiles at the boy who thinks her his sister, “Hello Eddie,” her voice catches in her throat, “you’ve grown so much.”

“Did you bring Edmure and Lyanna with you?” he asks her excitedly.

She smiles again, sadder this time, “I’m afraid not,” she whispers, cupping his cheek and placing a tender kiss against his red curls, Sansa’s curls. “Eryan is inside with gifts, why don’t you go inside to meet her? I will be along shortly, mother and I need to talk.”

“Don’t be long sister,” the boy says with a bright smile as he turns and runs towards the castle. She watches him, a bittersweet smile on her face. It isn’t until he’s nearly out of sight that Corrine whirls around to face her mother.

“How could you?” she demands, not caring that she is speaking to a Lady. She can’t understand it, any of it. As a mother, she can’t imagine the pain of losing one of her children. As a mother, she can’t imagine taking someone else’s child. Her mother is a mother, surely she understands the same things… so how could she willingly cause her own niece so much pain?

“Corrine…” her mother starts calmly.

“No!” she screams, her emotions getting the better of her for the first time since she was a child. “My brother is _dead_ and the boy I’ve spent the past seven years calling brother is in fact the Prince of Camelot and by the very blood that runs in his veins, is destined to be the King. You quite possibly stole him from the sweetest girl in all the realm and she has already suffered so much. Why mother? Defend yourself against this!”

The look her mother gives her, she’s never seen someone look so defeated, not even Sansa. Her mother looks years older, her lips pursed and her hands lightly resting over the folds of her skirt. The woman sighs, refusing to meet Corrine’s eyes.

“You may never forgive me this Corrine, and that is your right, but do not begin to tell me that what I did was wrong. Sansa’s son was in danger, people were trying to kill him. As a mother, I sympathized with Sansa at the loss of her son, but as a mother I knew Sansa would want him safe more than anything. What I did came at a terrible price, it was not fair by any means, but I did what was necessary to keep her child safe. I knew how terrible it would be for her, and I did it anyway, and I did not tell you because I knew you would be forced to watch Sansa suffer and you’d know the truth. As your mother I did not want that for you. What would you have done with this information?”

She can’t forgive her, not when she’s seen all the pain and anger and suffering that Sansa has gone through. It was wrong to take Eddard from her, no matter why it was done. It was wrong of Aegon to take him and it was wrong of Robb and Jory to agree. They could have protected him. There was another way.

She turns away from her mother and makes her way towards the fortress. When she enters it she makes her way to her chambers, where Eddie sits on her bed, playing with Eryan and his new toys. She stops, watching him from the doorway. He is happy, healthy, with a smile on his lips and a laugh in his throat. How different his life would be at court, playing with her children in the gardens, and riding through the forest with his mother and Gwaine. He could have been happy there as well. He could have been surrounded by more love than any person had any right too.

 


	60. Catelyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn learns that her grandson lives.

**Chapter 60 - Catelyn**

Rage boils within her as she glares down at the letter from her good daughter.

_The Stark-Pendragon heir lives._

She cannot stop rereading the line. He lives? The boy lives? How is it possible? Morgana told her she had taken care of the problem. She had assured her that no Stark-Pendragon child would be born. This babe will ruin everything, cause the downfall of all she loves. Rebels will take this child and turn it against them, whisper in it’s ear that the Starks murdered his father and brother and that he is the rightful King. They will murder her son as he sleeps and all her family so that they may put him on the throne with no aid or counsel from those they deem unworthy.

_Eight Years Ago - Winterfell_

“Lady Stark,” a man calls, shaking her from her thoughts as he approaches her, “a raven’s arrived for you.” He hands her the letter marked with the Queen’s seal. She looks at it oddly, but says nothing, gathering her skirts in hand to make her way inside.

Once she arrives at her chamber, she closes the doors behind her and settles by the fire.

_Lady Catelyn Stark,_

__

_Good mother, not much time has passed since your departure with Prince Bran to Winterfell, but there is a matter I believe will be of interest to you. It is with a heavy heart I write you that I have been unsuccessful in my attempts at persuading the Princess Sansa to abort her child. Perhaps if she were here instead of Harrenhal, I might have been more successful. She is due to labor in a short time, four moons, and I am afraid we can no longer wait for her to come to her senses. Like we did when it came to the matter of Arthur, it is time for us to make another decision. It is best for the realm that this child is never born. It is necessary to make this sacrifice so that our Kingdom may remain at peace. I write to tell you that I will need your help in this matter. I fear it is suspected already that I will attempt to harm this bastard offspring, so I need you to dust Bran’s letters to Sansa with a potion I will send later. It will make her bleed and force an abortion. It is for the good of the realm._

__

_Your Good Daughter,_

__

_Morgana Stark_

_House Stark and Le Fay_

_Lady of Winterfell_

_Queen of Camelot_

Catelyn takes a harsh breath as she reads over the words sent to her by her good daughter. It is true the child Sansa carries should never be born, but is it not stepping too far to force an abortion on her? Catelyn is many things, but wicked is not one of them. Despite everything she does love her daughter, she does want her to be happy. It does beg the question though, of can Sansa be happy raising a product of such a cruel attack? What will harm her daughter more? Raising the demon child or having it forced from her body to die?

Perhaps it is not the right decision, but for the good of Camelot, she decides to comply with her good daughter’s request.

_Present - Winterfell_

It had been a horribly hard decision, though one she had only mildly regretted despite the misery she saw in her daughter’s eyes after the child was born still. She had realized, quickly, that Morgana was right in her argument that it was good for the Realm. When the child died, there was a backlash, many believing (rightfully) that the child had been killed. What would have become of those people so angry had the child been allowed to live? It would be them that started a rebellion.

She had thought such a possibility was over, that she would no longer have to worry about someone rising against her children, but now that it’s been revealed the boy is alive… people can still act. The boy cannot be very old, eight if her numbers are right. There is still enough time to turn him away from his family.

How can Morgana have been so terribly stupid? To be fooled?

She throws the letter aside, angry in more ways than one. The boy _must_ die, now that he has been discovered. She needs to protect her family and that demon’s spawn will be the heart of all their suffering. She has no choice but to have him killed. It will tear her heart to see her daughter go through yet another heartbreak, but she has sacrificed her daughter’s happiness before, in fact, with a different Prince years ago.

_Eight Years Ago - Camelot_

“How can you allow this?” Catelyn demands as she storms into the future Queen’s chambers, startling both Morgana and her maidservant.

“Go,” Morgana tells the maidservant, waiting a moment for her to scurry off before turning her attention to Catelyn. “Allow what?”

“Arthur cannot be allowed to live. You can do nothing about the child in Sansa’s belly but you can surely do something about this. You are to be the _Queen_ after all,” Catelyn replies hotly, narrowing her eyes. This girl is strong, she knows that, but she needs to be a Queen and not bow away to the demands and wishes of a _Princess_.

“Do you not think I have tried? Robb has no love for me yet, not like he does for his sister. He will not budge on his decision, or do you not think I have tried? Eddard Stark was like a father to me and Arthur is the reason he is dead. I would see him _burn_ for it,” Morgana hisses, returning Catelyn’s glare.

“Robb is a young and inexperienced King,” Catelyn says, a million ideas running through her head, “He does not understand the consequences of this, of keeping Arthur alive.”

“I am aware, but we cannot do anything by law.”

“By law,” Catelyn repeats, smirking at the thought. It has been done before. It is perfect. Arthur needs to die. Sansa will be upset, but she will understand it was necessary in time. “Good daughter, what will you do to protect your soon to be husband?”

Morgana cocks her head to the side, confusion on her face. “Anything.”

“Well, is it not obvious? We simply kill him anyway.”

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who hates her? Show of hands!


	61. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa begins to completely crack.

**Chapter 61 - Sansa**

_The picture is so serene, everything any woman could ever want. The golden hair of her husband shines blindingly bright in the sunlight that streams in from the window behind him. He is seated on a lounge chair in the library, unaware of her presence in the doorway, as he cradles their young son in his arms. The way he looks at the small boy, like he is the most precious thing in all the world, sets her heart aglow with joy._

__

_“When you are big enough, you and I will go riding through the forest, and I will show you all the places your mother used to play as a child. I will teach you how to play, so that you will always know how to be happy. You will be King one day, and knowing how to be happy is very important. Granted, part of it will be your wife of course. Did you know your mother and I did not love one another in the beginning? No?” he cooes to the baby, “Well we didn’t.” Her husband looks thoughtful for a moment. “In fact it could be said I didn’t like your mother at all, thought of her as only a nuisance, but your mother wormed her way into my heart the day we married. She was dancing with her father, dressed in the most beautiful gown of ivory, and the way she looked at him, and the way she laughed, I knew she was the most wonderful woman in all the Kingdom. You see, I had never seen a noble woman love her father so much, most noble fathers don’t pay much attention to the girls I’m afraid. I realized though, that because of that love he’d given her, she has the biggest heart and most beautiful soul. I grew to love your mother, and I never thought I could love anyone else even half as much, until the day the physician placed you in my arms.”_

__

_She sighs quietly, remembering that day very well. “I love you Arthur.”_

__

_Her husband looks up, flashing her a charming smile, “Not half as much as I love you Sansa, I promise you that.”_

__

_She grins widely, stepping towards him only to stop in her tracks as blood begins to drip from Arthur’s hand. Her eyes widen as blood starts to trail down his face. He rises from his seat, her son gone, and extends a blood soaked hand towards._

__

_“Arthur,” she says in horror, but he is not Arthur anymore. Her bloody father stands in his place, taking small steps towards her._

__

_“Sansa,” her father whispers. She blinks and then he is Leon, Percival, Rhaegar, Lyanna, Edmure, Uther, Ceresi, the knights from the dungeon. They each whisper her name as they go towards her. She screams, fear creeping in and taking over._

__

_“You killed me same as I killed your father, are you no better than me?” Cersei hisses, kneeling beside her with a maddening look._

__

_“We orphaned our son to save a whore like you,” Lyanna screeches like a banshee beside her husband._

__

_“I loved you,” Uther whispers, kneeling in front of her, eyes eyes wide and mad like they were the day he raped her. Terror claws at her as she stares up at him. “I will fuck you bloody.” His hands trail under her skirts, hoisting them up and over her legs in one fluid motion._

__

_“No!” she screams as he settles between her legs. “No, no, no, no, NO!”_

The red haired Princess bolts upright, her eyes wide with panic as she falls from her cot. She’s screaming, but she hardly notices. She still feels him, those hands that had stroked her hair lovingly as a child only, she feels them pressing into her thighs, her hips, pinning her in place.

“Sansa!” someone calls, it sounds like him, she scrambles away. She can’t breath. Her chest hurts and she can’t stop trembling. Her vision is blurred. Someone grabs her shoulders.

“Let me go! Stop!” Sansa screams, but they don’t listen. As the terror grows, she throws her arms out, reaching for something, anything to defend herself. Her fingers brush against something sharp, she grabs it, plunging it into the neck of whoever has her. People scream, but she doesn’t know who and she doesn’t care. She scrambles to her feet, fleeing the tent before she can think.

Nothing is focused, the adrenaline is pumping, her heart is pounding. She’s surrounded by people and they look at her with wide eyes.

“Sansa!” someone shouts behind her. She whirls around, still clutching the sharp object. The man in front of her is familiar, comforting, but there is fear in his eyes. Images flash across her mind, of this man. He is lifting her onto his arm, twirling her on a dance floor, holding her hand as she attempts to walk across a bannister. He looks different now, older, sadder, less handsome. There is graying on his temple and wrinkles under his eyes. “Sansa,” he whispers, “look at yourself.”

She looks down. Her white night shift is splattered with blood and her fist is clutching a dagger. More images come, clear and crisp, of a different man, protecting her, hurting her, loving her. Her father’s man, the one that protected her all her life only to steal her child from her. She remembers his fearful eyes as he grabs her shoulders, calling her name and shaking her. She remembers her own screams as she sank the dagger into his neck, watching only a moment as he spluttered and coughed while his life’s blood sprayed from the wound, bathing her in the warm liquid.

“No,” Sansa cries in disbelief, dropping the knife and stepping back. She snaps her eyes over to her tent, fear and dread taking over. “No!” she screams, running towards her tent, but Beric grabs her around her waist, pulling her to him even as she claws at his arms and screams for Jory.

Gwaine is the one to exit her tent. He is splattered in blood and the look on his face is all anyone needs, to know that Jory is dead, and that she, Princess Sansa Stark of the North and Camelot, killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for killing Jory, but as a friend pointed out to me when she read this, Sansa is taking everything extremely well. Now poor Sansa will have to live with what she has done.


	62. Beric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa decides the fate of her son.

Chapter 62 - Beric

He can’t tear his eyes away from her. She sits on a crate, eyes hollow and cheeks sunken in. There is nothing but darkness in her eyes, staring out at the people around her, unseeing. He cannot imagine what she must be going through. She has been given hardship after hardship and they never seem to cease. She is a killer now, of an innocent man that meant her no harm. It does not matter if she did not know what she was doing, the guilt will eat her away.

The soldiers around him pack in silence, awaiting the orders of their Princess on where they will go, what they will do. She is oblivious to them. Many have tried to speak with her, from Gwaine to Gwen, but to no avail. She only continues to stare.

“My Lord,” a voice calls from behind him.

He turns to see Gwen, coming towards him with a look of determination. He nods his head to her. “Beric, Gwen,” he scolds gently, still amused by her southern ways. “What is it?”

“The camp will be packed in an hour’s time and we still know not what we are to be doing. The Princess needs to make the decision. Shall we bury Jory here and continue onward, do we return to Camelot, or shall we send a group of men to accompany Jory’s bones to Camelot and continue onward?” Gwen asks, “Someone needs to talk to Sansa and she has not spoken to Gwaine or I. Perhaps she will listen to you.”

He doesn’t know why she thinks he will get her to speak when Sansa has refused both her lover and her favored handmaiden, but he promises the distressed woman that he will try.

As he approaches her, he cannot help but remember better times, when she was still young and home at Winterfell. She’d been such a jolly little girl, always laughing and twirling. What had they done to her? Why did they ever take her away?

“Your Highness,” Beric says with caution as he approaches his Princess. She does not stir, does not blink, does not even seem to be aware he is there. He thinks maybe she’s suffered too much, that maybe this is the last of her sanity. She’s been through so much and she stood so tall, but everyone has a breaking point don’t they? Maybe this is hers.

“Sansa,” he whispers, reaching up to brush away a stray strand of her hair. “You are one of the strongest women I have ever known. Even as a child, you were so strong. I’m sure you don’t remember, you were two years old, still at Winterfell. You snuck out of your bed in only your shift and you decided to go outside because you wanted to play in the snow. It wasn’t until your Septa decided to check on you that we realized you were missing. We searched everywhere for you. I found you curled up under a tree, blue from head to toe. I thought for sure you were dead, but by the grace of the gods you were still breathing. I picked you up and ran with you all the way back to Winterfell. They said you were a child blessed, a true Northern child to have survived in the snow so long. You have spent a lifetime being too strong. I’m sorry Sansa, I truly am. I’ve failed you, as your guard and as your friend.”

He rarely shows emotion, but he cannot help the tears that cloud his eyes when he this of the girl Sansa should be. She deserves the life she was promised. She deserves a loving husband and to be the amazing Queen she was always meant to be. Why are the gods so cruel as to take away every bit of happiness she might have?

“It’s not your fault,” she says, startling him. Her eyes are looking down at him, and if he thought the pools of hollowness were scary, it is nothing compared to this. Her eyes are drowning in sorrow, of hatred, of anger, of sadness, and of guilt. “It is mine. It is all my fault. If I had just listened when they told me to drink the moon tea, then none of this would have happened. I put my own selfish desires ahead of what was best for both my realm and my child. He has a target on his back now and because I chose to bring him into this world I made those closest to me choose between my wishes and what was best for my child. They took him from me and I can never forgive them for that, but because I chose to bring a little boy of Pendragon and Stark blood into this world Jory is dead, by my own hand. I killed him, a man who only wanted to protect me. We’ll return home, and my son will remain a Tully. He does not deserve me. I can be no mother to him.”

Beric is at a loss for words, struck dumb as he watches Sansa rise from her seat and walk away. She is a woman grown, but she looks far younger than he’s ever seen her. She is broken, perhaps beyond repair. She has killed the guard she’s known all her life. He is just a knight and she is a Princess once meant to be Queen, but it does not matter if her killing him his no crime by law, she will never forgive herself. He knows that it will haunt her for the rest of her life, steal her sleep and her happiness.

She is a shell of a woman now.

 


	63. Bran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran learns of Jory's passing.

**Chapter 63 - Bran**

The cold is bitter in the North, a fact Prince Bran had never known until his mother pried him away from his sister and took him North to be a proper Lord of Winterfell. He hates everything about it, too used to the sunshine and flowers of the Camelot. His only solace has been the fact that Sansa is not with him, as the lack of gardens would have driven her to madness.

Locked away in his father’s old study, Bran feels like little more than a child playing at Lord. This is not the life he wanted nor was he ever trained for it. As a boy he had done little more then play with Sansa, learn to wield a sword with the knights, and read to his sister as they both laid in the fields behind the castle. His precious sister was raised to be a Queen, but as a second son to a man with a strong and healthy heir, it’d been unnecessary to teach him more than basic Lordly duties. His lack of motivation to learn what he needs does little to help in the matter.

The young Lord of Winterfell is torn from his thoughts by a sharp knock on the door.

“Enter,” he says casually, not even a drop of formality in his voice. He truly doesn’t care who is on the other end of that door, be it another Lord or a servant.

The door opens to reveal Sir Kay, one of the Camelot knights that had been assigned to his sister when they were children. The man had never been a favored companion to either Stark child, but they had both liked him well enough. He looks little like the man Bran remembers, whose smile was as big as Gwaine’s and whose face was more handsome than Beric’s. Sir Kay’s face is lined deeply now and his temples have begun to turn gray, but perhaps the biggest change, is the frown. There is not a hint of joy in him.

“Sir Kay of the Camelot Royal Guard, your highness,” the man announces, as if Bran could ever forget him.

“What’s wrong?” Bran asks, his heart dropping to his stomach as he notices the letter in the man’s hands. His presence is concerning enough, but to see a letter with his sister’s royal seal on it makes his mouth go dry. Bran’s favorite sibling and only sister sends her letters by raven, not messanger.

The knight says nothing, only handing the letter to Bran who tears into it quickly.

_Little Brother,_

__

_Do you remember when we were small and father had to leave and travel North to quiet some rebellion? I find myself thinking of that first night, when you crawled into my bed and asked me if father was going to die. I hold he would not die, that the gods would not be so cruel to us. I found a book in my library and read to you until you fell asleep. Not four days later, father was back and holding us in his arms. When you told him you’d worried he’d die, he got down to his knees and assured you not to worry, that the gods have a plan, and that you and I were children of the gods, and they would never allow us harm._

__

_He lied to us brother. You and I have both shared in the cruelty of the world. We have both been sacrificed and scarred by what happened in our time as Pendragon hostages, but you and I had never been the monsters. I swore I would never allow another to die and that I would never be so cruel as Cersei Lannister was to me. Yet, I have done as she did. I killed someone we both love, and who loved us both. I have stolen the brother of Rodrik Cassel and the uncle of little Beth. In the terror of my nightmares I thought he meant me harm and I tossed a dagger into his throat. I’ve murdered a man who has loved me my entire life. It is with a heavy heart I turn back towards Camelot, to allow my child to live the life he deserves, one where I am not his mother and he is not my son. What kind of mother can I be to him? What do I have to offer him? I am a broken shell of a Princess, spoiled by a King who meant to harm my family by ruining me. I was once meant to be the Queen of Camelot, adored and beloved by all, mother to every man, woman, and child of my Kingdom. I was supposed to be married to Arthur, a man who should have loved me but never did. Every time another tragedy befalls us, I cannot help but remember father’s words that day he returned. I cannot help but wonder if he truly believed them or not._

__

_Sweet brother, you were a savior growing up, loving me more fiercely than even our father. You listened to my fears, fought for my honor, and helped me be someone who at one time deserved the crown I was meant to have. I miss you so terribly. The gods have been cruel to us both, but they were cruelest from the first moment they separated us. My little brother, my love, my friend._

__

_Love,_

__

_Your Sister_

Bran’s heart breaks for his sister as he scans her flowery words. She was his delight once, the one whose embrace he longed for, whose laughter could turn his mood from sour to kind. The gods have cast blow after blow and she has finally crumbled beneath it. Her terror caused her to kill a man whom they’d both loved and who’d loved them in return.

Sir Kay is gone and Bran is thankful for it as he sinks to his knees and sobs for his sister. He stares at her signiture, not her name, but their relationship. She does not consider herself a princess anymore, not even a child of one of the oldest names in history. He cries and he screams for what’s been done to her.

She was his everything once, his own savior when his fears got the better of him. He must be her savior now. There is one person that has any hope of mending Sansa’s fractured heart and shattered soul. He does not care if Sansa feels she has nothing to offer him, if Sansa will not go to her son, he will bring her son to her.

 


	64. Mordred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not happy with this one at all, but gotta remember who the villain is.

**Chapter 64 - Mordred**

“What are you thinking?” comes his lover’s voice.

The raven haired boy, nearly a man at seven and ten, turns on his side to face her. He does not answer right away, stopping a moment to admire her beauty. Her long black locks are spilled out across his chest, soft like silk against his skin. As her vibrant eyes of sapphire blue gaze up into his own, he notices the harsh beauty of her face. Power gleams from every angle of her body, showing the world her strength. He laughs to himself at how foolish these rulers are, to not see it in her though they are around her every day.

“Of your beauty,” he replies, closing the gap between them on his bed to drink in her spirit and life. She is more intoxicating than strong wine, tasting of power and magic. He can feel it when his skin touches hers, their magic sparking and bonding beneath their skin.

When they break apart, she smiles her wicked smile. “The soldiers have heard that our little Princess has killed her guard. They whisper that she’s gone mad with the pain she’s suffered. They’ve begun to lose their faith in her, their love for her.”

“I see,” he muses, sitting up to avoid the distraction of gazing at Nimueh’s naked body, “so perhaps… we do not need Morgana to kill her. If the knights lose their love for her, then the power the Stark whore holds will dwindle and she will become no threat.”

“But there are whispers that her son lives. No one wants a war, a Stark and Pendragon child will be the answer to avoid it. If we are to throw Camelot into chaos, we need easy Kings disposed of. Those loyal to House Stark will not bend the knee to Morgana.”

“There is already tension amongst the country, we need to make it even more unstable. Our plan will work, so long as that child doesn’t ever come to light,” Mordred agrees.

With a smirk, Mordred watches as his lover rises from his bed. “Or...” she says, turning to face him, “I have a better idea.” She looks beautiful like this, face aglow with the cause in her eyes. She will make a good Queen when all is said and done.

“I’m listening.”

 


	65. Theon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon talks to Sansa

**Chapter 65 - Theon**

Sansa’s return had been a silent affair. Theon had stood beside his King, watching as the the once lively and vibrant girl dismounted her horse in silence. While her eyes had met Robb’s, they’d been hollow and lifeless. There’d been no words spoken between them, no greets or tears. He’d watched as she removed her gloves, her eyes meeting Robb’s, before they dropped to the ground. She’d walked passed her brother, who had stepped away in tears.

He hasn’t seen Sansa since her return, but Eryan tells him she spends her days and her nights in the nursery, sitting at the window, looking out with unseeing eyes. She tells him that Sansa does not move. She says that she does not know if Sansa simply ignores the presence of others or if she truly does not know they are there.

He hears her sometimes, when he works late in the night. She sings, in a voice as soft as a child, she sings the lullaby Aegon wrote for her son.

He hears it tonight, on her seventh night home. Theon shares no true friendship with Sansa, but he cannot resist the urge to follow the voice. He stops in front of the nursery door, unable to make himself step through. It’s open, so maids can come in and out attending to Sansa.

She’s sitting at the window like his wife said, her back to him. She’s half cast in shadows and half illuminated by the sunlight. She looks beautiful, but she’s been broken.

_Five Years Ago - Camelot_

Theon loves the morning. There is something about being out for a walk even earlier than the servants’ rising. It is when Camelot is most beautiful, surrounded by a cool morning fog that tints the world blue for a few hours. In the three years that he’s lived at court, he has never once come across another person. So he is more than a little surprised to see the Princess Sansa, almost a statue herself against the tall gray sculptures of the dead. She kneels by the statues of Sirs Percival and Leon, her hand up to caress the cheek of Leon. It’s a private moment and he is intruding, but he can’t tear his eyes away. She has the body of a child, despite the fact that she has given birth, but her eyes are are strong, fierce and strong. There is despair, true grief, and despite it all she is alive, fighting to make it through every day.

“I am sorry Leon,” she whispers.

_Present - Camelot_

She had been beaten down then, torn apart and barely hanging on, but not yet broken. Now he is sure she is broken beyond any repair. He wants to cry for her, for the injustice she has suffered. She does not deserve to be a casualty of a war many believe is long over.

He walks in, his steps echoing. She stops singing, but she makes no indication that she knows he is there. Because of her silence, he says nothing, softly taking her hand and tugging gently till she rises to her feet. Her eyes look up to meet his, but there is no familiarity or recognition in them. He tightens his hold slightly, trying his best to smile at her despite his pain at seeing her so broken.

They walk slowly, out into courtyard, ignoring the guards who look on with curiosity. Some look at Sansa with pity, but others look at her with disdain. Jory was well beloved, and the fact that their precious Princess is the one who killed him makes them feel terribly betrayed. It is their new animosity towards her that makes him fearful of what they might do if the peace is broken. It was Sansa they fought for, so without her, who would they back in an invasion?

Sansa is oblivious to their stares and judging glances, Theon is grateful for it. She doesn’t need to deal with that, and Robb is taking care of it.

“Sansa, did you know that we were once betrothed?” he asks, though he knows better than to expect an answer. “You had just been born and I was a young boy of seven. Your father placed you in my arms. I had never before held a babe and I tried to immediately give you back, but your father said no. He said one day, I would grow up to be a fine man, the kind of man he wanted for you. He wanted us to be married.” He looks to see if there is any stir in Sansa’s eyes, there is nothing. “But I am happy we did not. We aren’t right for one another. You’d have never been happy with me. Gwaine is your soulmate. He loves you more than anything in this world.” He looks at her, praying to all the gods that she can hear him. “He’s dying inside Sansa. He needs you, more than anyone else. He needs to know you love him.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter, it didn't want to write, but this is an important encounter. Next chapter will be from the point of view of a character we have not yet had a POV chapter of. Three guesses who?


	66. Eddard Tully (aka Pendragon-Stark)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and his family start for Camelot

**Chapter 66 - Eddard Tully _(aka Pendragon-Stark)_**

When cousin Bran appeared one morning, Eddie knew something was wrong. Cousin Bran and his mother Roslin quickly locked themselves away in the den he is told was once his father’s. Before he could make his way to the servants’ passageway at the side of the den, Corrine comes out of nowhere, her arms making their ways around his shoulders.

“Come on Eddie, we will be leaving for Camelot tomorrow. You need sleep my love,” she says with a smile, steering him towards his solar. The blue eyed heir of Riverrun turns to face his sister with confusion. His mother always told him that he must always avoid the capital. She had said many times that he was not safe in Camelot. Why would she change her mind now?

“Corrine?” he asks as his sister steers him towards his solar.

“What is it sweetling?”

“Why are we going to Camelot?” he asks, stopping in their walk to look at her. She is truly beautiful. Her hair is waist long orange-red and curled into impossibly perfect ringlets. Her eyes are the darkest of blues, gleaming in the torchlight. She is slender, and while not very tall, she has an imposing presence. They say she is a woman’s version of his father. They also say she will do whatever is necessary to protect her family, a fact they tell him she demonstrated clearly when she released Arthur Pendragon to provide protection to their cousin Sansa. So why is she so eager to send him, her brother, to a capital their own mother has deemed unsafe for him?

“Eddie…” she starts, but he cuts her off. She is hiding something from him, he knows she is.

“ _Little Brother_ ,” he says, his voice rising before he gets a handle on his anger, “you have always called me little brother. What is wrong? Why can you hardly look at me? Why can’t you meet my eyes? You’ve been here more than half a fortnight and you barely see me. You used to visit me at night, sing me to sleep. You used to sneak away with me into the gardens that Grandmother Minisa loved. We used to go exploring. What has changed, _sister_?”

She stops in her tracks, freezing in place for a moment before she turns to look at him. There is sadness in her eyes, a kind he’s never seen before. She has always been happy and joyful whenever he’s been around her. It is a strange sight. Corrine opens and closes her mouth a few times, as if she doesn’t know what or maybe how to tell him something. After a moment of hesitation and thoughtfulness, she crouches down in front of him, taking both of his hands in her own. “Things have changed greatly since my last visit. I have learned things, terrible things, that have deeply hurt someone I love very much. To relieve her of that pain would be hurting someone else I love dearly. Because of this I cannot be the sister you have always known, but I will swear you this: no matter what happens, _whatever_ it may be, you are my little brother, and I love you so very deeply. I will always love you, and that is something I can promise you will never change.”

Her eyes are sincere, and Eddie knows when to let a topic go, so he promises his sister that he loves her deeply as well. He’s happy when she gives him a gentle smile, and allows her to take his hand and lead him towards his chambers to help pack his things, but he knows something is wrong, something is deeply wrong. He fears what it might mean for him, for his family. He doesn’t want to go to Camelot, but at the same time, he feels there is something calling him there, that he is needed.

The next day he rises early. His things have already been taken to be loaded onto the wagons and his nurse is busy readying his travel clothes. Corrine told him that they will depart before the dawn, so Eddie is not surprised when the castle is abuzz with activity. After he’s been dressed, he ventures out into the hallway, curious to find a guard at his door. Despite the fact that he is destined to be Lord Tully of the Riverlands, he has never had one before, but he doesn’t question it.

The man trails behind him as Eddie makes his way to his mother’s solar to break his fast with her. He is surprised to see his sister and Bran already there. They are speaking heatedly, but quickly break away when they notice his arrival.

“Eddie!” Bran calls obnoxiously, going straight for him. While the little blue eyed Lord has always liked his cousin, he cannot help but roll his eyes at the man’s loud personality (something his sister says he didn’t always have). Still, he laughs when his cousin hoists him up over his shoulder before dropping him in his seat.

“Bran, how is it up at Winterfell? Is it true the snow is over the head of a horse?” he asks excitedly, eager to hear as many stories as possible about his cousin’s homeland.

Bran opens his mouth to answer when a guard appears, holding a raven’s scroll with the seal of House Stark. As far as Eddie knows, there is only one other than Bran that uses the seal, King Robb.

“A scroll from His Grace, your highness,” the man says as he walks over to Bran, who takes the scroll before nodding his dismissal to the guard.

Everyone is silent while Bran’s eyes scan over the contents of the letter. Eddie pays special attention to the way Bran’s eyes narrow, grow wide, then return to normal. “It appears the King wishes to meet us at the halfway point between here and Camelot. He is eager to meet his youngest cousin.”

On any other day, Eddie would have been over the moon to know that his cousin wishes so desperately to meet him, but today he notices the looks of concern that pass between his three family members. Now he is not sure there is any good that will come from meeting his cousin and King.

 


	67. Robb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb meets his nephew for the first time

**Chapter 67 - Robb**

Lord he feels old. As Robb swings up onto his horse, he can’t help but notice the ache in his bones. It’s been too long since he’s spent so much time on a horse. He is not a youth any longer, these things no longer feel natural.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Aegon Targaryen says from the side as he also mounts his horse.

“It’d be worse if Rhaenys were here. Has she learned the truth yet?” Robb asks as they join the party that is ready to continue onward towards Riverrun at his command.

“Not yet,” the silver haired young man says with a grimace, “though I fear the day she does. Her wrath will be unlike anything you have ever seen… and she will care for nothing that you are her King.”

Robb understands it, and he will not begrudge the woman her anger. From what he understands, Lady Rhaenys grew very attached to Sansa in his sister’s time at Harrenhal.

“How far are we? To Riverrun?” he asks Aegon, changing the subject, “It has been a long time since I have last visited.”

“Another five days ride to Riverrun, but only a few hours until the halfway point. Are you ready to meet your nephew, Robb?” Aegon asks in return as they speed their horses to a gallop.

“Not sure I am. I sent this boy away to protect my sister from the ones that wanted harm done to him. I never considered him a child, my nephew. I saw something that could get my sister killed. In sending him away I broke her, the very woman I meant to protect. If I had just let her and her child be, she’d have never hated myself or Jory, she would not have been in such despair as to trigger a nightmare and she would have never killed Jory. It is my fault, from the moment I sent that letter to Uther with my claim, I started all of this.”

Aegon says nothing beside him, whether he agrees or not, Robb isn’t sure, but they continue on in silence for hours. It isn’t until a Tully rider comes to alert them that the Lady Roslin, Lady Corrine, Prince Bran, and little Lord Eddie are not far.

So Robb dismounts his horse, ignoring the ache in his bones and the anticipation in his belly. He stands perfectly still, like a King.

When the party comes into view, he watches as they stop, only four riders coming towards them. He knows who they are and his stomach tightens. His brother and good cousin are at the front. When they stop, Bran goes to assist Corrine from her horse before going to Lady Roslin, but it is the beautiful boy of dark auburn hair that captures his attention. He is tall and slender for his age, with the most beautiful blue eyes and shoulder length hair. It reminds Robb of a boy Sansa. There is nothing of his father in him, only his mother. Tears enter Robb’s eyes and for a moment he forgets that he is a King. He kneels before the boy, who stares at him with wide eyes, and before he can think he embraces the stunned child.

No one says a word at the display, though when Robb opens his eyes he can see the struggle in his Aunt Roslin to remain quiet. How she hasn’t run over already and snatched the child she’s called her son for seven years away is beyond him. He cannot imagine what this must be like for her, though it was always his intention to retrieve the child he had sent her. Still, he is for all intents and purposes, her son, and he knows this new chapter of her life will be remarkably difficult.

When he finally pulls away from the boy, he gives him a reassuring smile. “I apologize Eddie, but you look very much like my sister Sansa. I was overcome for moment.”

“Why, Your Grace?” the boy asks. Robb quickly raises a hand to silence Roslin.

“Eddie, do you know why you are coming to Camelot?”

“No,” the boy answers honestly.

“Robb,” Corrine interrupts, but he silences her with a look.

“My sister has gone through very much in her life, Eddie. She has been hurt. Do you know much of my sister?”

“I know Princess Sansa was held hostage in the war and that she bore King Uther a bastard son who died in the birthing bed,” the boy recites, obviously from lessons.

“Yes, a boy, seven years ago. I think you can help her heal from all that has happened to her. I think you are the one that can help her. Do you want to help her?”

“Yes,” Eddie says with honest eyes, “I do.”

 


	68. Gwaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine thinks over his relationship with Sansa. Eddard arrives in Camelot.

**Chapter 68 - Gwaine**

It is a hard thing, to see your dreams die before your very eyes. When he first asked Robb permission to court her, he was terrified that his King would reject him. It hadn’t been until that moment, with the most important question hanging on his lips, that he realized he could not live his life without Sansa, that he lived and died by her. Somewhere, at some time, Sansa had woven her way into his heart, making him love her more than he ever thought possible. Receiving the permission he’d wished so hard for, he’d finally allowed himself to dream of a life with Sansa that he’d never allowed himself to wish for. He imagined living with her at holdfast by the sea. He imagined a little girl, an innocent, untouched version of Sansa. He imagined a little boy, identical to himself with the exception of his mother’s eyes. While they’d been nothing more than dreams, fairy tales, he’d somehow started to believe that they’d actually come to pass.

That life he imagined is gone now. The Sansa he imagined sharing the rest of his life with, no longer exists. She is gone, replaced by a poor copy. Her mind is gone, her soul, her heart. She is hardly more than a living corpse, looking with sightless eyes, hearing with a stranger’s ears, and touching with a cold and unfamiliar hand. Despite it all he cannot leave her, nor can he let her go. He told her the night of Morgana’s nameday ball, that he would always want her. He meant the words then and he still means them now. He loves her, when it is easy, when it is hard, and when it is nearly downright impossible. She is the one he is meant to be with and nothing, not even her loss of sane mind, will change that.

“I wish you would talk to me,” he says, turning to look at her.

They sit in a clearing, half a mile into the forest. While he leans against a tree, Sansa sits a few feet away. She is petting her direwolf, Lady. Seeing her this way, with the beast’s head in her lap and the gentle fall of her hand on the soft fur, one might view such a moment and tender. It is upon closer inspection, that the disturbing nature of the display is revealed. It’s when you notice her eyes, glazed over and emotionless, and the mechanical fall of her hand that you realize something is wrong.

“Is it selfish of me to want you back?” he asks her, not expecting an answer. “You’ve been strong enough for this life and the next. Is it selfish to ask you to be strong again?” She doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t recognize that she even knows he is talking. “Do you know I remember the first day I met you? It was at a feast in your honor. You’d been trying to talk to Arthur all night and he kept dismissing you, so you decided to go to the Queen’s Garden. That’s where I found you, sitting on a stone bench with a lily in your hand. You had this smile on your face, looking down at that lily. I asked you what was so happy, and you just smiled this joyful smile. I think that’s when I fell in love with you.”

It hurts him more than he expected when she doesn’t say anything. She might not even know he said anything.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, though to her or himself he doesn’t know, “let’s take you back.”

He rises from the tree, giving Sansa a soft smile as he helps her up and loops her arm through his. He leads her back towards the castle, not in any hurry. It’s silent, the only sound the wind through the trees and soft fall of Lady’s paws.

Before he knows it they are on the stone paths of the castle, though he barely notices. The bells are ringing, saying that the King and Prince Bran have arrived. He doesn’t think, or he wouldn’t have taken this particular path.

He sees the King’s party, and he readies to take Sansa away so Bran may see her later, in private, but he stops when he sees who accompanies them. He sees Robb, Bran, Corrine, Lady Roslin, and…

“Eddard,” Sansa whispers beside him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has finally seen her son for the first time since his birth. What do you think will happen now?


	69. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa dreams of a life she's never had any chance of having.

**Chapter 69 - Sansa**

_“A light in the darkness,_

_a smile in despair,_

_a hope for the hopeless,_

_with a crown in his hair,” Sansa sings softly, smiling down at her perfect son, just drifting off to sleep._

__

_“Is he asleep?” a voice asks from the doorway, pulling Sansa’s ocean blue eyes away from her son. She nods, her smile growing as she puts a finger to her lips as she makes her way towards him. Without a word, she takes his hand and pulls them through the door that leads to the next room, her royal bedchamber._

__

_“If you wake him, I swear…” he doesn’t finish. A warm mouth is pressed eagerly against hers, moving with hers in a familiar pattern._

__

_Hands drift up her waist, stroking her sides in small circles. She smiles as they pull away for air, giggling as strong arms hoist her up so she may wrap her legs around his waist. He leads her towards the bed, ready to drop her down when her door is thrown open. He does drop her, but more out of shock and surprise than romance._

__

_The maidservant stutters and gapes, too new to have thought to knock before entering her Princess’s bedchamber. She’s young and inexperienced, so Sansa will forgive her this one time for the intrusion, especially since she and her companion really don’t have any time for pleasure this particular morning._

__

_“What is it you need?” Sansa asks, pushing herself off the bed and trying desperately to appear presentable despite her bed-tousled hair and pushed up night shift._

__

_“The King wishes to see you. Your father has arrived,” the poor girl stutters._

__

_Sansa cannot help the smile that spreads across her face. Barefoot and in only her night shift, she runs out the door. She doesn’t care that she is not properly dressed or that it’s down right horrific for her to be seen in only her night clothes, but she doesn’t care a bit. The knights do not comment when they see her, simply letting her into the Throne Room. Nobles and knights alike clear a path for her, allowing her to make her way to her father, who stands beside her brothers. Without a care in the world she throws her arms around him, crying with joy into his doublet._

__

_“Sweet Sansa,” he whispers as he kisses her hair._

__

_“I’ve missed you,” she sobs, tears trailing down her lovely face._

__

_“I’ve missed you too,” he says, breaking away from her enough to kiss her forehead. “Now, where is my good son?”_

__

_“Eddard!” a cocky voice calls from the doorway, and once again those who have not left yet, part to allow the newest addition access to the Lord of Winterfell._

__

_“Gwaine my son,” Eddard greets as he embraces the young man that has married his eldest daughter, “how has life at the capital been treating you?”_

__

_“While I am happy to be here with my food family, I am eager to return to Sea Dragon Castle. It is far too boring here and I am eager to show my son the Point for which he will one day rule,” Gwaine says with a broad smile as he encircles his arms around Sansa’s waist._

__

_“He is far more eager than I,” Sansa says with a laugh, “but I do wish to see Winterfell again soon once Young Ned is just a bit older. I would like to meet my newest brother soon.” It has been far too long since she’s been to Winterfell, despite the holdfast she and Gwaine had been given being only a quick week’s ride away. She longs to see the younger sister and youngest brother that she has not yet met. She hears that little Rickon is not the adventurous climber their brother Bran is, but more like her with a love for stories and songs. She also hears that her sister Arya has taken on the very spirit of her Aunt Lyanna, something Sansa would pay good money to see._

__

_“And you should. Your mother misses you,” her father says with a smile. As he reaches towards her and takes her arm, Sansa cannot help but look down queerly at it. Her father’s hands are large, yet the tug on her arm seems smaller._

__

_As he leads her through the halls, she is shocked to see trees sprouting from the ground. It is like she is standing in a cloud, as if two images are overlapping. She sees the marble floors of the castle, but the dirt of the forest floor._

__

_The closer they get to her bedchamber the more her door begins to mold into a horse. Sitting atop of the horse is a boy, her very image with shoulder length red hair and ocean blue eyes. It is her son, already a grown boy, but he can’t be. Her son is a babe, not a child, just a babe._

__

_Her head spins, her heart quakes, all she can see is this boy. Her father screams her name beside her, but her eyes are narrowed on her boy._

“Eddard.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't really supposed to fit into anything that was ever even remotely possible, but Sansa has created a world in her head where Uther, Arthur, and Cersei never existed and therefore Robb is still King, her father is alive, her mother is good, and Arya and little Rickon exist. But she's been jostled from her dream and is back to reality now... maybe. Will she stay there? 
> 
> And the song Sansa is singing at the beginning is meant to be Aegon's lullaby that he wrote for her son. It's why even unable recognize the world around her, she still sings it.


	70. Corrine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddard/Eddie/Ned makes Corrine a promise that means more than he understands/

**Chapter 70 - Corrine**

Eddard is an astute boy. Corrine has known that since the moment he was first placed into her arms. Only a moon old and his beautiful blue eyes had gazed up at her with curiosity. She’d sworn to her mother that the boy was studying her, but Roslin had laughed it away and said that no baby can do such a thing.

Because Eddard is so astute, it does not surprise Corrine that the small boy bombards her with questions the minute they are behind closed doors. It is only natural he would want answers. When Sansa had spotted him, only moments after muttering his name she had gone into a fit. Eddard had stood frozen in terror as the woman he knew only as a cousin, screamed and tore at Gwaine’s arms, clawing him bloody before Robb and Aegon managed to pull her off him. Aegon had to go so far as to smash his fist against the back of her head, knocking her out cold. Then Eddard had been forced to watch as Sansa’s direwolf snapped at Aegon’s hand, leaving wounds that will heal into ugly scars.

“That was my cousin Sansa?” he asks her with wide eyes, unsure what to make of this development.

Frustration rises in Corrine’s heart, because she doesn’t know what to tell him. Without the truth, there is no real way to explain Sansa’s reaction to seeing him. There is no reason good enough to explain without making the mother who bore appear like a monster. Annoyed with the situation, she turns to the small replica of her father.

“Did mother ever tell you about your namesake?” Corrine asks, opting to tell the small boy a half truth.

“I was named for the King’s father and cousin Sansa’s poor son,” he answers, having clearly paid attention in his lessons.

“There was a moment years ago, nearly the same day, where the heir of House Tully and the heir to House Stark _and_ House Pendragon were born; two boys born only a week’s ride apart. One lived while the other died. Both women wept for the babe lost, though one cried much longer and harder than the other. _You_ lived, the other did not,” she says, not lying though not telling the whole truth. She does not tell him that the one that wept harder and longer is not the one who truly lost her babe.

“Her son and I, we’d have looked the same had he lived, wouldn’t we?” Eddard asks, looking up at her with large, trusting eyes. Yes he lived, but even he does not know that he is the son of Sansa Stark and Uther Pendragon.

“Yes, I imagine so,” she replies, because she likes to think that the brother buried in a tomb marked Eddard Pendragon-Stark would have grown to look just like this boy standing before her.

“Does she think I am her son come to life?” he asks, startling even Corrine. He is too clever for her own good. Will all this time is meant to spend in Camelot lead him to the truth?

“Sansa is deeply hurt. She has been through more pain than your lessons will ever tell you.”

Eddie looks thoughtful for a moment, Corrine would do anything to know what he is thinking.

“I do not want her to be unhappy,” he finally says.

Corrine’s heart nearly bursts at the statement. He is the son Sansa’s always deserved. He has his mother’s kind heart. Even though it’d have caused her mother pain, she cannot help but wish that he had grown up at Sansa’s side. She cannot even imagine the difference it might have made in Sansa’s life. He’d have been her salvation, her purpose in an otherwise terrifying and haunting existence. It’s too perfect to imagine, Sansa and Gwaine running through the Queen’s Garden, chasing after the boy they’d have called Ned instead of Eddie. She can see Sansa holding him in her lap, reading to him under the morning sun. She can see Gwaine sitting with him on a horse, showing him how to move his legs and pull the reigns.

“Why are you crying sister?” Eddie asks, breaking through the uncomfortable silence that has fallen over them.

Corrine raises her hand to her cheek, shocked to feel the wetness there. Before she can think, the tears fall faster and faster, as more images begin to fill her mind. She sees Sansa teaching him how to dance, Gwaine helping him swing his first sword,  Sansa teaching him language, Gwaine tossing him into the air, Sansa singing him to sleep, Eddard jumping into Gwaine and Sansa’s bed. She cries for that life her cousin could and _should_ have lived. She curses them all, everyone who had any part of stealing this boy from the loveliest girl she’s ever met.

She feels Eddie’s arms wrap around her and she crushes him against her chest, sobbing into his hair. She cries for Sansa, for Gwaine, and for Eddie. He will never be Ned, whom Sansa had loved a thousand times more than she ever loved anyone else. He will only be Eddie, who knows nothing of the amazing woman who gave him life and wanted him even when the world told her to get rid of him.

She doesn’t hear the door open, nor her husband’s gasp. She does feel him take her into his arms and she does hear him whisper that he loves her.

Eddie disentangles himself from the both of them, but she hears his small voice say one last thing before leaving her with her husband.

He says, “I promise Corrine, I will make our cousin smile once again.”

**  
**She cries even harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this, tragic, yet very inspiring and hopeful.


	71. Nimueh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slight twist.

**Chapter 71 - Nimueh**

“He’s alive!” Morgana screams, swiping her arms across the supper table in her room, sending it’s contents crashing to the floor. She looks up at Nimueh, half hidden by the shadows. “It is one thing to find the child alive, but to bring him here?”

“Eddard Pendragon-Stark or Stark-Pendragon is still your husband’s legal heir. He is older, but most of the world still does not know he exists. We need to rid ourselves of him, like you did once with Arthur, like we tried when he was first born. That boy should never grow old enough to rule, or you’ve sacrificed everything for the son of a child who means to take your husband from you,” Nimueh tells her sternly, taking the fracturing woman by the shoulders. She needs to get the damned woman to calm herself, but Morgana seems to be growing more mad and paranoid with each passing day. If things continue this way, the plan will be ruined.

“I cared for Sansa since she was a babe of three. I’ve already had Arthur disposed of and attempted to sacrifice her child. How can I do this to her again?” Morgana asks desperately, her eyes filling with tears, her shoulders trembling beneath the handmaiden’s touch. It’s disgusting how weak she is.

“Sansa is not the child you loved,” the raven haired beauty lies with ease, “Sansa has done whatever she deems necessary to usurp your throne. You held her, cared for her, protected her, and she has turned on you. She has repaid your kindness and love with seduction and evil. She has your husband’s heart and ear. She controls him with her cunt. She pretends to be broken so those around her love her. Jory knew, Jory realized what she was becoming and she murdered him for it. It is her one mistake, and we will use it. The soldiers are losing their faith in her, in the Princess they thought they knew. You are their Queen and now they will follow you. Mourn for the Sansa lost to you the minute Uther raped her, obliterate the seductress she has become. Your good mother is in the North and she will not be your ally much longer, but with Jory’s death you have a foothold in the North. He has kin at Winterfell who will want to avenge him. You can do this Your Grace, you were always meant to be Queen. Now go and see your husband.”

The handmaiden watches with a self-satisfied smirk as the Queen of Camelot shuffles from the room.

“You need to reign her in or she’ll spoil everything,” Mordred says from the shadows, stepping out from behind the partition.

“I know,” she snaps, turning to face him. He’s right and she knows it, but who is he to complain? She is the one that has to play the part of the dutiful handmaiden that only wants what’s best for her underappreciated Queen. It isn’t easy to unravel someone’s mind without leaving obvious clues as to your motives. “You cannot rush these things. Eager to murder your brother and sister?” she asks with a smirk.

His face darkens and to most other people it would be frightening, but it means nothing to her. She may love him, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t control him. He is hers and he would never hurt her.

“Don’t call those bastards my family.”

“Bastards you call them? What does that make you?” she taunts. For all he talks about hating these monsters and how they must pay for the injustice done to their people, he is one of them. He shares the blood of the monsters he hates.

“I’ve never denied being a bastard, but unlike them I have not lived a life of privilege. I was raised by the mother who bore me, so that I could suppress my lesser half. Are you so hateful that you must constantly remind me of it?” he asks angrily.

“I am not hateful, simply reminding you of your place,” she says with a sickening smile, strolling passed him and out the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is Mordred's brother and sister?


	72. Elizabeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth is summoned to Camelot.

**Chapter 72 - Elizabeth**

“My Lady,” a voice whispers, startling Elizabeth from her slumber.

“Jeyne?” she murmurs in confusion as the face of her maidservant comes into focus.

“My Lady, a rider’s come from the Capital with a letter marked with the King’s seal.”

“Take me to him,” Elizabeth orders, throwing back the covers in haste and grabbing her robe from the hook. With one glance back to her husband, who continues to sleep undisturbed, she follows her maidservant. “Did he say what this pertains? The Princess? The Prince?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, my Lady. I came to get you the minute he arrived,” the maidservant says quickly as they both hurry towards the council room.

Elizabeth throws open the doors to the council chamber, not caring in the slightest that the kitchen staff sleep just on the other side of the wall. She doesn't say a word, but she heads straight for the messenger, her hand outstretched.

He forks it over without delay, well aware of Elizabeth’s legendary temper. She does little more than glance at it's contents before she turns to her maidservant.

"Ready my things and gather an escort, we ride for Camelot within the hour," she tells the startled girl. Without another glance to the messenger, she makes her way back to her chambers.

She goes right to her beautiful husband, still asleep in their bed. His golden hair is laid out over his pillow, far longer than he’s ever had it before. With a soft smile, she reaches a hand out to him, shaking him gently.

"Elizabeth," he murmurs, sitting right up and reaching for his sword despite the heavy sleep in his eyes.

The Lady of Casterly Rock chuckles lightly, wondering how she could have ever thought ill of him. He may not be the husband she'd envisioned as a child and they may hold little real love for one another, but he cares for her dearly. She is lucky indeed to call him husband.

"I must go to Camelot. I will leave within the hour," she tells him, a frown pulling at her lips. It's the right thing to do and the old her would have jumped at the chance without a thought, but she's grown fond of Jaime, and leaving him is not as easy as it once was. She'll be gone for a while she's sure, because whatever has been brewing since the death of the royal heir, is clearly coming to commence. She can't help but think of everything that will be missed on both their parts.

"How long?" he asks, suddenly very awake.

“Awhile,” she says, frowning as she looks at the silent sadness in her husband’s eyes. He wants to go with her, but they both know he can’t. They both know that whatever is happening in Camelot is dangerous and as the Lord of House Lannister, the only heir, he needs to stay out of harm’s way. She’s disposable, only a wife whose bloodline has already been secured by two brothers.

“I don’t want you to go, Ellie,” he tells her softly, though they both know she needs to go.

“I know,” she whispers, rising from their bed. With with tired eyes and a heavy heart, Elizabeth is looks out the window, at the small entourage preparing to ride out in the courtyard. Her personal Lady’s maid is right in the thick of it, barking orders at the poor, sleepless men. It makes The only daughter of Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryen chuckle, remembering just how timid the Westerling daughter once was.

"May I help you dress my Lady?" her other handmaiden asks.

Elizabeth turns to look at her, her tired eyes scanning the young woman before her. The girl is pretty, a young Cersei Lannister some say. She is Jaime's cousin Janei, a girl sweeter than most. The girl is no warrior, not like Elizabeth or her mother Lyanna, but she is a capable substitute until Elizabeth's return, or replacement should the worst happen.

"Yes, please," Elizabeth says solemnly.

Once she is dressed and her trunk is packed, she goes to the courtyard with Janei in tow. When the men see her, they bow their heads before mounting their horses. Elizabeth is reminded of a prisoner's walk to their death as those around her clear a path. It takes every ounce of willpower to keep the tears in her eyes at bay.

Jamie is standing by her horse, his face a mask of stone. While his face gives her strength, it is what he holds that nearly tears her apart.

When she reaches him, the tears hang on her lashes, threatening to fall. She looks down at her young daughter, clutching Jaime's dublet in her tiny fist. Her big Lannister eyes stare up at Elizabeth, still half asleep.

"Ma!" the small Lannister Lady cries out, reaching for Elizabeth.

"I love you Myrcella," she whispers to the small girl, her heart breaking as she takes her daughter into her arms. "I will always love you."

"Come home to us," Jaime whispers into her ear as his strong arms wraps around the both of them.

"I will," she promises, though they both know she has no way of keeping it for certain. She continues fighting the tears that pool in her eyes as she hands her daughter to Janei. "Take care of her for me."

"I will my Lady," the girl promises, and while Elizabeth knows Janei would gladly lay her life down for Myrcella, it does little to calm her breaking heart.

"Lady Lannister," Jaime says, stretching his hand out to help her onto her horse.

She gives her husband an affectionate smile as she graciously takes it. In one fluid motion, she mounts her horse. "I'll write soon."

"Stay safe," Jaime replies, his mask fading away to reveal the sad eyes of a broken man. Despite all her faults, Jaime had adored Cersei, and the thought of potentially losing his wife is a big blow. Elizabeth can only hope that Janei will take care of him and make sure he spends time with Myrcella.

With one last wave, Elizabeth kicked her horse into action. She waits until she's outside the gates to let her tears fall. All she can do is look to the future, because something is brewing in Camelot and Robb needs her help. With shaky hands she pulls out letter Robb's letter, reading the short message over again. It's just as alarming as it was the first time.

_Come. I need you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth's daughter is in honor of them KILLING MYRCELLA!! I was very mad about that.


	73. Roslin

**Chapter 73 - Roslin**

Seeing her is like confronting an ugly truth. It was easy to forget in Riverrun, that a girl was grieving a son she thought dead. It was easy to raise the boy, love him, care for him, blossom with him, when she didn’t have to see his true mother wither away and become little more than a shadow. Sansa had loved her son fiercely since before his birth, allowing him to fill her with hope and life. His supposed death had crushed her, destroyed her. How could Roslin have forgotten? How could she have forgotten for even a moment that Eddie belonged to this girl that’d lost everything? How could she have forgotten what her own happiness cost? She lost her own son that horrible day, but she was handed a new one, to replace the boy lost to her, while this girl had nothing when her son had lived on.

The Lady of Riverrun had not expected to run into Sansa so quickly. Yes she had seen the girl when she arrived in Camelot, but not since and not alone. She hadn’t expected to run into the girl whose son she stole, in a side hallway. The Princess of Camelot stands like a ghost in a window, looking down at the courts below, where Eddie plays with Eryan.

“You raised him well,” Sansa says softly, her eyes glued to Eddie.

Roslin nearly jumps, startled that the Princess is even aware of her presence. She takes a cautious step towards the royal, only to notice the direwolves for the first time. Lady is sitting stiffly by her mistress, glaring at Roslin she’s sure. Ghost and Grey Wind are in the shadows, coming out into the light, pacing protectively in front of Sansa.

“It was not my son they gave me,” Sansa says numbly, turning towards her Aunt.

“No,” Roslin whispers, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes as she thinks of her own dead son. Had Sansa meant it to sound so cruel? Had she meant it to be a mockery, a bitter joke for the suffering caused to her? “My son was born without a heartbeat. The physician believed my son had been four days passed by the time I birthed him.”

“He was the child they gave me.” The look on Sansa’s face betrays no emotion or thought, it is unnerving to witness. The silence that follows isn’t much better.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Is he happy?” Sansa asks, finally turning to face the Lady of Riverrun.

Roslin opens and closes her mouth several times, unsure what she should say. Sansa’s eyes are glazed over, glassy and unseeing. The whispers have reached the whole of the kingdom, of the madness the beloved Princess of Camelot has suffered in the past year. Is she, Roslin, the cause of it? Did she set her beautiful niece down this dreadful path by agreeing to take the royal heir as her own son? How does one rectify this? How does one apologize for stealing a child from his mother?

“Yes,” she finally answers, because Sansa has been lied to enough in her life. She deserves to hear the truth, even a truth so small as this.

“Good,” Sansa says with a nod. Without another word she spins on her heel with a dramatic twirl of her dress. All Roslin can do is watch as her son’s mother walks away, betraying not even a hint of what she plans to do now that her son has been brought to her. It all leaves the Lady of Riverrun with a sickening feeling in her stomach.

 


End file.
